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AMERICAN PROGRESS: 



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THE GREAT EVENTS 



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heGreatestCentury, 













'vi' INCLtTDING ALSO 

Life Delineations of Our Most Noted Men. 



'They love their land because it is their own, 
And scorn to giva aught other reason why."— Halleck. 



By HON. R. M. DEVENS, 

OF MASSACHUSETTS. 



ILLUSTRATED WITH OVER THREE HUNDRED ENGRAVINGS. 



PUBLISHED BY 
HUGH HERON, CHICAGO, ILLS. 

1886 






Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1877, by 

C A. NICHOLS & CO. 
In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



BY THANSnW 

fEBZ* itHM 



SPRINGFIELD PRINTING CO. 

KLKCTROTYPERS, PRINTERS AND BINDERS. 

SPRIKfiFlELD, MASS. 




"A nation's character is the sum of its splendid deeds." — Henkt Clay. 



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LORIOUS beyond historic parallel have been the achievements 
of our national career. To worthily record them is the schol- 
ar's pride. To be familiar with them is the patriot's 
duty and delight. In presenting this new work the publish- 
er's aim is to supply the demand for a unique portrayal of a 
great and eventful century. 

As the course of a distant mountain chain is indicated by those lofty peaks which 
rise to meet the sun, so a people's social tendency and political and scientific advance- 
ment are revealed in those extraordinary names and deeds which rise into 
the light of immortality. 

Michael Angelo wrought into nine most wonderful frescoes on the ceiling of the 
Sistine Chapel all the memorable events of the world's first thousand years. No pen 
is more charming and educational than that which, like the Florentine's pencil, throws 
all the greatness of a wonderful past into a series of glowing pictures. 
This has been our author's endeavor. The result is a gallery of historical frescoes 
in which may be seen all those splendid deeds and mighty men that have made up 
our greatness. 

Our national progress has been most excitmg and dramatic. What struggles 
and triumphs, what discoveries and inventions, what disasters and reforms, 
what tragedies and comedies, have characterized the greatest century since 



g DEDICATION. 

Ztxe world hegaul Be this our native or adopted land, while we glory in our 
American citizenship we cannot become forgetful of those supreme characters and 
superb achievements which "constitute our common patrimony — the nation's in- 
heritance." 

The page which reflects the glory of our past must be bright and entertaining-. 
The author believes that the proper narration of events is not only more, in- 
structive but also more fascinating than romance. The work is not a mere 
history. It contains no tedious details of commonplace occurrences, but graphic 
descriptions of everything notable, — the cream of history. The needs of all 
classes of readers have been consulted. Our American youth, our intelligent farm- 
ers and artisans, our business and professional men of the land, who need books 
that are full of the most interesting and useful material for reference, illustra- 
tion, entertainment, and instruction, will find the present volume adapted to 
their wants. It is not dry, like an encyclopedia, but in the fullest sense stimu- 
lating, romantic, true, — to charm while it informs the mind. Dryness is not a 
proof of accuracy. The clearer and more vivid a picture the more faithful it may 
be to reality. An elevated and spirited style of composition is in harmony with 
splendid truths and facts. 

Eleven laborious years have been devoted to the preparation of the 
volume, and tiie publisher makes no apology for saying that the author has 
brought to his work experience, scholarship, and literary taste of the highest 
order. He has obtained rare and valuable information hitherto inaccessible. 
State and national archives, libraries and museums, private diaries and journals 
of public men, have been laid under contribution. From eye witnesses and partici- 
pants in thrilling scones have been secured interesting facts never before in print. 
The book may be relied upon as authority on the subjects of which it treats. 

Over twelve thousand dollars has been expended in illustrating the woi-k. 

Art is a charming instructor — it teaches while it entertains. The philosophy of a 
great life may be revealed in a portrait. A single engraving may convey a clearer 
idea of a subject than a whole chapter of words. 

The true value of a book is not commercial, but intellectual. Fenelon said, "If 
the crowns of all the kingdoms of the earth were laid down at my feet in exchange 
for my books and my love of reading, I would spurn them all." Our hands must 
toil for our brains and hearts. Rich is the possessor of a good book. Our own 
rare Emerson said, "In the highest civilization the book is still the highest 
delight." That volume in which the great events of our own nation's existence are 
mirrored with all the colors of reality must challenge the attention of thoughtful 
men. 

To our American citizens— Liberty's nobility — the publisher has the honor 
to dedicate this work, believing, with Goldsmith, that "in proportion as society 
refines, new books must ever become more laecessary." 

THE PUBLISHER. 



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I. 

MOMENTOUS POLITICAL EVENTS OF ABSORBING INTEREST. 

BIRTH OF THE NATION.— The Grandest Modern Event. — The Gauntlet ot Defiance thrown ^[K 
at the Feet of the British Realm by Her Youngest Colonies.— The whole World looks on Aston- 
ished.- Patrick Henry's Burning Eloquence.— Excitement of the King and Court.— Lord Chatham's 
Scorching Speech.— Struck Dead while Speaking.— Seven Years' Struggle.- England Gives Up the 
Contest, and the World Welcomes the New Nation 25 

APPOINTMENT OF OUR FIRST MINISTER TO ENGLAND.— John Adams, the Foremost 1786 
Enemy of British Tyranay, FiUs this High Office.— What His Mission Involved.— All Europe 
Watches the Event. — Interview between Him and King George, His Late Sovereign. — Their Ad- 
dresses, Temper, Personal Bearing, and Humorous Conversation. — Results of this Embassy. . 70 

FORMATION AND ADOPTION OF THE FEDERAL CONSTITUTION.— Plan of Govern- ITW 
ment to be Framed.— Statesmen and Sages in Council.— Dignity, Learning, and Eloquence of the 
Delegates.— Various Schemes Discussed.— Angry Debates, Sectional Threats.- Franklin's Impress- 
ive Appeal.— Patriotism Rules all Hearts.— Snl>Iime Scene on Signing the Instrument.— The United 
States no Longer a People Witliout a Government 77 

FIRST ELECTION AND INAUGURATION OF A PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED 1789 
STATES.— Washington, the Nation's Spontaneous, Unanimous Choice. — His Farewell Visit to His 
Mother. — His Triumphal Progress from Home, and Solemn Induction into Office. — Order of Cere- 
monies.— Elegant Appearance and Dignity when Taking the Oath.— Reverentially Kisses the Bible. 
— Distinguished Celebrities Present. — Jubilee throughout the Republic, over the August Event. 84 

FOUNDING AND ESTABLISHMENT OF THE NATIONAL CAPITAL.— Named in Honor 17?? 
ot Washington. — Bitter Sectional Contest in Deciding the Location. — First "Compromise " in Con- 
gress between the North and the South. — Final Removal of the Government and its Archives to 
Washington. — Official Observance of the Event. — Magnificent Site and Plan of the City. — Splendor 
of its Public BnUdings 112 



10 



CONTENTS. 



PASSAGE OF BENTON'S FAMOUS "EXPUNGING RESOLUTION," m THE UNITED W37 

STATES SENATE. — Opposition to the United States Bank.— Jackson's Message Against it.— Con- 
gress Grants a Charter, and Jackson Vetoes the Bill, Denounces the Bank, and Orders the United 
States Funds Removed. — Secretary Duane Declines to Act, but Taney Succeeds him and Obeys. — 
Fierce Conflict in Congress. — Weeks of Strong Debate. — Resolution to Censure Jackson Passed. — 
Benton's Motion to Expunge. — He Follows it up Unceasingly, and Triumphs after Three Years' 
Parliamentary Struggle 268 

PROCLAMATION OF EMANCIPATION, AS A WAR MEASURE, BY PRESIDENT 1863 
LINCOLN. — More than Three Millions, in Bondage at the South, Declared Forever Free. — Most 
Important American State Paper Since July Fourth, 1776. — Pronounced, by the President, " The 
Great Event of the Nineteenth Century." — The Whole System of Slavery Finally Swept from the 
Republic, by Victories in the Field and by Constitutional Amendment. — Public Reception of the 
Proclamation.— Promulgation at the South. — Scenes of Joy Among the Freedmen. — Enfranchise- 
ment Added to Freedom 544 

II. 

BATTLES, SIEGES, AND BRILLIANT NAVAL ENGAGEMENTS. 

CORNWALLIS SURRENDERS HIS SPLENDID ARMY TO GENERAL WASHINGTON, itsi 
— Final Catastrophe to British Arms in America. — Consternation and Despair in the Cabinet of 
King George. — Eloquence of Burke, Fox, and Pitt. — They Demand that the War Cease. — The 
Voice of Parliament. — Last Act in the Military Drama. — Washington's Countrymen Everywhere 
Hail and Extol Him as Their Deliverer 56 

ADIEU TO THE ARMY BY WASHINGTON.— Record of His Generalship.— Scheme to make 1183 
Him King. — Indignantly Rebukes the Proposal. — Last Review of His Troops. — Affecting Interview 
and Parting Words between the Great Chieftain and His Comrades-in-Arms. — Solemn Farewell 
Audience with Congress. — He Voluntarily Divests Himself of His Supreme Authority, Returns Hia 
Victorious Sword, and Becomes a, Private Citizen. — Rare Event in Human History 68 

DECISIVE BATTLES WITH THE INDIANS.— Headlong Flight and Destruction of St. 1791 
Clair's Army, in 1791, Before the Trained Warriors of " Little Turtle." — This Mortifying Disaster 
Retrieved by Wayne's Overwhelming Triumph, in 1794. — Final and Crushing Blow Dealt by Jack- 
son, in 1814. — The Question of Power Between the Two Races Forever Settled in Favor of the 
Whites 91 

THE FAMOUS WHISKEY INSURRECTION IN PENNSYLVANIA.— Violent Resistance ]T^ 
to the United States Excise Laws. — Monster Meetings and Inflammatory Appeals. — Officials and 
Loyal Citizens Whipped, Branded, Tarred, and Feathered. — Intense Excitement in all the States. — 
Washington Declares that the Union is in Peril and Heads an Army to Meet the Crisis. — Precipi- 
tate Flight of the Armed Rebels 105 

GENERAL JACKSON'S TERRIBLE ROUT ANT) SLAUGHTER OF THE BRITISH 1815 
ARMY, AT NEW ORLEANS. — British Invasion of Louisiana. — Jackson Hastens to New Orleans. 
— His Consummate Generalship in the Order and Conduct of this Campaign — The War with England 
Terminated by a Sudden and Splendid Victory to the American Arms — Jackson is Hailed as One 
of the Greatest of Modem Warriors, and as the Deliverer and Second Savior of His Country. — 
National Military Prestige Gained by this Decisive Battle 171 



GENERAL SCOTT IN THE HALLS OF THE MONTEZUMAS, AS THE CONQUEROR 1M7 
OF MEXICO — Irritation between the United States and Mexico — Points of Boundary. — Mexico 
Refuses to Yield. — Declaration of War by Congress — Scott's Order, " On to Mexico ! " — Doniphan's 
March of Five Thousand Miles. — General Taylor's Unbroken Series of Victorious Battles, from Palo 
Alto to Buena Vista — Flight of Santa Anna in the Dead of Midnight — The Stars and Stripes Float 
Triumphantly from the Towers of the National Palace — First Foreign Capital Ever Occupied by the 
United States Army 347 



CONTENTS. 11 

BOMBARDMENT AND REDUCTION OF FORT SUMTER —Inauguration of Civil War in l??! 
the United States. — First Military Act in the Long and Bloody Struggle to Dismember the Union. 
— Organization of the Southern Confederacy. — President Lincoln's Proclamation for 75.000 Volun- 
teers. — Spontaneous Uprising of the Loyal People. — Calling the Battle-Roll of the Republic. — Su- 
preme Crisis in tiie Fate of the Nation. — Northern and Southern Variances — Slavery the Cause of 
Contention. — Culmination of the Antagonism. — Disunion Banner of the South. — Secession of Sev- 
eral States. — War Wager Boldly Staked. — Vain Efforts at Reconciliation. — Federal Property Seized 
at the South. — Batteries Erected at Charleston. — Fort Sumter Closely Besieged. — Beauregard De- 
mands its Surrender. — Major Anderson's Flat Refusal — Weakness of his Garrison. — Attempts to 
Re-enforce It. — Prevented by Confederate Batteries. — All Eyes Riveted on the Fort. — Opening of 
tlie Attack, April Fourteenth. — Incessant and Tremendous Fire. — Terms of Evacuation Accepted. — 
Southern Rejoicings. — The Great Military Outlook — Washington the National Key. . . . 502 

BATTLE AT BULL RUN, VA., BETWEEN THE FEDERAL ARMY AND THAT OF 1861 
THE SOUTHERN CONFEDERACY.— Three Months Since Sumter Fell — " On to Richmond ! " 
the Union WarCry. — Severe Fighting for Many Hours. — March of McDowell's Army, and Plan of 
the Movement — Re-enforcements for the Confederates — Davis's Arrival on the Ground. — He Ex- 
claims, " Onward, My Brave Comrades ! " — Their Wild Enthusiasm — Most Disastrous Defeat of the 
Federal Troops. — Their Uncontrollable Panic and Headlong Flight — First Important Engagement 
in the Great Civil War. — Lessons Taught by this Battle. ........ 517 

BATTLE OF ANTIETAM, MARYLAND.— Bloodiest Day That America Ever Saw.— Nearly !»«? 
One Hundred Thousand Men on Each Side. — General McClellan Declares on the Field that it is 
" the Battle of the War." — Four Miles and Fourteen Hours of Fighting and Slaughter. — The Shock 
and " Glory " of War on a Colossal Scale. — Obstinate Bravery of the Contending Foes. — Some of the 
Regiments Almost Annihilated. — The Union Troops Hold the Disputed Ground and Drive the En- 
emy tn Masse. — The After-Scene of Horror 53.^ 

CAMPAIGN AGAINST -VICKSBURG, " THE GIBRALTAR OF THE MISSISSIPPI," 1^ 
BY THE UNION FORCES.— The Genius, Valor, and Resources of Both Armies Tasked to Their 
Utmost — Final Capitulation of the City by General Pemberton, After a Prolonged and Brilliant 
Siege — Heaviest Blow Yet Dealt the Secession Cause. — General McPherson Receives the Formal 
Surrender. — 37,000 Prisoners, Fifteen Generals, Arms and Munitions for 60,000 Men, the Trophies. 
— Geographical Importance of Vicksburg. — Its Commanding Fortifications. — Farragut's Naval Siege 
Powerless. — Sherman's Attack Repulsed. — Grant Assumes Active Command — Vigorous Operations 
Undertaken. — His Series of Victorious Battles. — Futile Attempt to Storm Vicksburg. — Hours of 
Terrific Cannonading. — A Systematic Siege Begun. — Thorough Investment at all Points. — Federal 
Sapping and Mining — They Mine and Blow up Fort Hill. — Awful Spectacle of Blood and Ruin. — 
Deadly Struggle for a Foothold. — Success of the Forty-fifth Illinois. — Their Colors Surmount the 
Work. — Pemberton Sends a Flag of Truce — His Interview with Grant. — Grant's Terms : " Uncon- 
ditional Surrender." — The Victors Enter the City, July Fourth. — Curious Reminiscences. . . 654 

THREE DAYS' BATTLE BETWEEN THE CONCENTRATED ARMIES OF GENER- !^ 
ALS MEADE AND LEE, AT GETTYSBURG, PA.— Overwhelming Invasion of Pennsylvania 
by the Confederate Forces. — The Union Army Drives Them with Great Slaughter Across the Poto- 
mac. — Unsuccessful Attempt to Transfer the Seat of War from Virginia to Northern Soil — One of 
the Most Decisive and Important Federal Victories in the Great American Civil Conflict. — Lee's 
Army Impatient to go North. — Order of March at Last. — Consternation in the Border States. — Call 
for One Hundred Thousand More Men. — Advance of Meade's Army. — Face to Face with the Foe. — 
Engagement between the Vanguards. — Terrific Artillery Contests — Movements and Counter Move- 
ments. — Severe Reverses on Both Sides. — Carnage at Cemetery HiU. — Longstreet's Furious Onset. 
— Most Destructive Cannonade. — Gettysburg a Vast Hospital. — Crawford's Grand Charge. — Stand- 
ing by the Batteries !— Hand-to- Hand Conflict. — Following the Battle-Flag. — Deadly and Impetuous 
Fighting. — Forty-one Confederate Standards Taken. — Unbounded Joy of the Victors. — President 
Lincoln's Announcement 563 

GRAND MARCH OF THE UNION ARMY, UNDER GENERAL SHERMAN, THROUGH 1864 
THE HEART OF THE SOUTH —Generals and Armies Baffled : States and Cities Conquered — 
— Display of Military Genius Unsurpassed in any Age or Country. — Great Closing Act in the Cam- 
paign. — Sherman's Qualities as a Commander — His Own Story of his Success. — A Brilliant Cam- 



12 CONTENTS. 

paign Planned. — Atlanta, Ga., the First Great Prize. — Destroys that City : Starts for the Coast — 
Subsists His Men on the Enemy's Country. — Savannah's Doom Sealed.— Fall of Fort McAllister. — 
Christmas Gift to the President. — Advance into South Carolina. — The Stars and Stripes in Her Cap- 
ital. — Battles Fought: Onward to Raleigh. — Johnson's Whole Army Bagged. — Sherman Described 
Personally 598 

FALL OF RICHMOND, VA., THE CONFEDERATE CAPITAL.— The Entrenched City 1865 
Closely Encompassed for Months by General Grant's Brave Legions and Walls of Steel. — Flight of 
Jefferson Davis, and Surrender of General Lee's Army. — Overthrow of the Four Years' Gigantic 
Rebellion. — The ^gis and Starry Ensigns of the Republic Everywhere Dominant. — Transports of 
Joy Fill the Laud. — A Nation's Laurels Crown the Head of the Conqueror of Peace.— Memorable 
Day in Human Affairs. — Momentous Issues Involved. — Heavy Cost of this Triumph. — Without It, a 
Lost Republic. — Uuequaled Valor Displayed. — Sherman's Grand Conceptions. — Sheridan's Splendid 
Generalship. — Onward March of Events — Strategy, Battles, Victories. — Lee's Lines Fatally Broken. 
— Approach of the Final Crisis. - Richmond Evacuated by Night. — Retreat of Lee : Vigorous Pur- 
suit. — His Hopeless Resistance to Grant. — Their Correspondence and Interview. — The Two Great 
Generals Face to Face — What was Said and Done. — Announcing the Result. — Parting of Lee with 
His Soldiers. — President Lincoln's Visit to Richmond. — Raising the United States Flag at Fort Sum- 
ter. — Davis a Prisoner in Fortress Monroe 607 

OUR FIRST VICTORY ON THE SEA.— John Paul Jones Fights and Captures the English ]™ 
Ship-of War, Serapis, in British Waters. — Crowds of Spectators Line the Coast. — The Most Sangui- 
nary Battle Ever Fought Between Single Ships. — Britain's Flag Struck to America. — Jones is Hailed 
as " The Washington of the Sea." — World-wide Interest of this Combat 32 

AMERICA AND ENGLAND MATCHED AGAINST EACH OTHER FOR THE FIRST }^ 
TIME IN A SQUADRON FIGHT —Lake Erie the Scene of the Encounter.— Sixteen Vessels En- 
gaged — The British, under Captain Barclay, one of Lord Nelson's Veteran Officers, and with a Su- 
perior Force, are Thoroughly Beaten by the Americans, under Commodore Oliver H. Perry. — Every 
British Vessel Captured. — General Harrison Completes the Victorious Work on Land. — American 
Prowess Invincible 163 

EXTRAORDINARY COMBAT BETWEEN THE IRONCLADS MERRIMAC AND MON- 1862 
ITOR, IN HAMPTON ROADS —Sudden Appearance of the Merrimac Among the Federal Frig- 
ates. — Their Swift and Terrible Destruction by Her Steel Prow. — Unexpected Arrival of the "Lit- 
tle Monitor " at the Scene of Action — She Engages and Disables the Monster Craft in a Four Hours' 
Fight. — Total Revolution in Naval Warfare the World Over by this Remarkable Contest — How the 
Merrimac Changed Hands. — Burned and Sunk at Norfolk, Va. — Her Hull Raised by the Confeder- 
ates. — Slie is Iron Roofed and Plated — Proof Against Shot and Shell. — A Powerful Steel Beak in 
Her Prow. — Most Formidable Vessel Afloat — In Command of Commodore Buchanan — Departs 
from Norfolk, March Eighth — Pierces and Sinks the Cumberland. — Next Attacks the Congress. — 
The Noble Frigate Destroyed — Fight Begun with the Minnesota — Suspended at Nightfall — Trip 
of the Monitor from New York — Her New and Singular Build — Lieutenant Worden Hears of the 
Battles — Resolves to Grapple witli the Monster — The Two Together Next Day — A Scene Never 
to be Forgotten. — Worden Turns the Tide of Fortune. — Repulse and Retreat of the Merrimac. 526 

COMBAT BETWEEN THE ALABAMA, CAPTAIN SEMMES, AND THE KEAR- 1864 
SARGE, CAPTAIN WINSLOW, OFF CHERBOURG— The Alabama is Sunk after an Hour's 
Engagement, in Sight of the Two Great Maritime Powers of Europe— Semmes Throws His Sword 
Away, Jumps Overboard, and Escapes — Relative Equality, in Size and Armament, of the Two Ves- 
sels — The Previous Destructive Career of the Alabama Against Northern Commerce. — Causeless 
Raid on Marine Property — Fault in tlie Law of Nations — British Origin of the Alabama — Her Un- 
mistakable Character. — Peculiar Model and Equipment. — Adapted to Destroy, Fight, or Run — 
Adroit Shipment of Stores .and Guns — Ready for a Start. — All Hands Mustered Aft. — Semmes 
Reads Aloud His Commission — Cheers for Davis, Semmes, Etc. — Salute Fired : Hoisting the Flag. 
— A Long Cruise: Terrilde Ravages — Puts in at Cherbourg, France — The United States Ship 
Kearsarge on His Track — Semmes Boldly Offers to Fight — Preliminary Maneuvers of the Ships — 
Seven Circles Round Each Other — Semuies's Rapid and Furious Fire — Superior Gunnery of the 
Kearsarge — Its Fatal Effect on the Alabama — Incidents of this Renowned Fight. . . . 581 



CONTENTS. 13 

ADMIRAL FARRAGUTS ACHIEVEMENTS IN 1862 AND IN 1864 ; AND ADMIRAL l^M 
PORTER'S IN 1865.— Fierce and Sauguiuary Coutest between the Admiral's Flagship, -ind 
Admiral Buchanan's Monster Ram. — The Latter Proves Herself, for a Time, » Match for the Whole 
Union Fleet. — Farragut's Overwhelming Victory. — Farragut Pressed to Join the South. — His 
Unswerving Fidelity to the Old Flag. — High Trust Committed to Him. — Sailing of His Fleet. — 
Bold and Successful Plan of Battle. — Admiral Porter's Services.— New Orleans Again Under the 
United States Flag. — Forts, Rams, Ironclads, etc., to Fight. — Powerful Build of the Tennessee. — 
Makes for Her Antagonist at Full Speed. — Farragut's Masterly Maneuvers. — Unexpected Feature 
in His Tactics. — Deadly Contact of the Various Craft. — The " Glory " and Horrors of War. — 
Stubborn Bravery of the Great Ram. — Crippled at Last : The White Flag. — The Stars and Stripes 
on Her Staff.— Buchanan Yields His Sword 590 

III. 
SUPERB ACHIEVEMENTS OF ORATORY. 

THE "GREAT DEBATE" BETWEEN WEBSTER AND HAYNE IN CONGRESS.— Vi-2830 

tal Constitutional Issues Discussed. — Unsurpassed Power and Splendor of Senatorial Eloquence. — 
Webster's Speech Acknowledged to be the Grandest Forensic Achievement in the Whole Range of 
Modern Parliamentary Efforts. — His Magnificent Personal Appearance. — Unprecedented Interest 
and Excitement Produced in the Public Mind. — No Debate Comparable with This. — Known as the 
" Battle of the Giauta." — Rival Orators ; Pleasant Courtesies.— Golden Age of American Oratory. 205 

STRUGGLE FOR THE RIGHT OF PETITION IN CONGRESS.— John Quincy Adams, the 1836 
" Old Man Eloquent," Carries on a Contest of Eleven Days, Single Handed, in its Defense in the 
House of Representatives. — Passage of the " Gag Rule." — Expulsion and Assassination Threatened. 
— His Unquailing Courage. — A Spectacle Unwitnessed before in the Halls of Legislation. — Triumph 
of his Master Mind 252 

POLITICAL DEBATE BETWEEN ABRAHAM LINCOLN AND STEPHEN A. DOUG- l^s 
LAS, IN ILLINOIS. — Cause of this Remarkal)le Oratorical Contest. — Intense Interest in All Parts 
of the Land — The Heart of Every American Citizen Enlisted in the Momentous Issue Involved. — 
Eminent Character of the Combatants. — Their Extraordinary Ability and Eloquence Universally 
Acknowledged. — The Discussions Attended by Friends and Foes. — Victory, Defeat, Life and 
Death. — Condition of the New Territories. — Form of Constitution to be Decided. — Domestic Institu- 
tions : Slavery. Mr. DougLas Advocates " Popular Sovereignty." — " Prohibition " Urged by Mr. 
Lincoln. — National Importance of the Question. — The Public Mind Divided. — Joint Debates Pro- 
posed. — Agreement between the two Leaders. — Personal Appearance and Style. — Plans, Places, 
Scenes. — Theories and Arguments Advanced. — Skill and Adroitness of the Disputants. — Immense 
Concourses. — Result Impartially Stated. — Mr. Douglas Re-elected Senator. — Mr. Lincoln Nominated 
for President. — His Election to that Office. — Douglas's Magnanimity. — The Olive Branch. — Shoulder 
to Shoulder as Uuionists. — Sudden Decease of the Great Senator 469 

ORATORICAL CHAMPIONSHIP OF AMERICA'S CAUSE IN ENGLAND, BY REV. H. 1863 
W. BEECHER. — His Olympian Speeches, in Defiance of British Sentiment, in the Great Cities of 
the Kingdom. — Superb Exhibition of Forensic Power in Liverpool. — He Wrestles, Single-Handed 
and Triumphantly, for Three Hours with a Vast Mob in that City. — Reception at Exeter Hall, 
London. — Mr. Beecher's Tour Abroad for His He.alth. — Civil Conflict Raging in America. — Mr. 
Beecher Urged to Speak an United States Affairs. — Opening Speech in Manchester. — Great 
Audience. — Attempts to Silence Him. — Powerlessness of the Opposition. — Discussions in Glasgow 
and Edin'Durgh. — Battle Waged by Mr. Beecher in Liverpool. — Violent Efforts to Gag Kim. — 
Taunts, Curses, Hisses, Fury. — Stampings, Hootings, YeUings. — Beecher's Pluck, and Good 
Humor. — Grand Closing Scene in the Capital 573 

IV. 

WONDERFUL PHENOMENA OF THE EARTH, OCEAN, AND HEAVENS. 

THE WONDERFUL DARK DAY.— One of Nature's Marvels.— The Northern States Wrapt in n8« 
a Dense Black Atmosphere for Fifteen Hours. — The Herds Retire to their St.alls, the Fowls to their 
Roosts, and the Birds Sing their Evening Songs at Noonday. — Alarm of the Inhabitants. — The Day 
of Judgment Supposed to have Come. Science at a Loss to Account for the Mysterious Phenome- 
non. — Incidents and Anecdotes 40 



14 CONTENTS. 

TOTAL SOLAR ECLIPSE.— The Darkness of Night FaUs upon ths Earth at Mid-day.— Stars yo? 
auJ Planets iu i'ull Hadiauce. — Maguificeut Spectacle of the Glittering Corona around the Moon aud 
the Brilliant Rosy Protuberances flaming from the Sun. — Business Pursuits Abandoned. — Millions 
of Faces Turned Upward. — The Phenomenon Viewaa with Curiosity, Wonder, and Absorbed De- 
light. — Triumphs of Astronomical Science. — Reveianons of the Spectroscope. — Spots on the Sun 
Examined. — Climax of the Impressive Sceue 134 

EXTENSIVE AND CALAMITOUS EARTHQUAKE AT THE WEST.— Its Convulsive ijll 
Force Felt all Over the ^'alley of the Mississippi aud to the Atlantic Coast. — The Earth Suddenly 
Bursts Open and a Vast Region of Country is Sunk and Lost. — Awful Chasms and Upheavels. — 
Ruin and Desolation Brought upon the Inhabitants. — Account of the More Recent Earthquakes in 
California, their Characteristics and Destructiveness. — Humboldt's Interesting Opinion. . . . 155 

THE EVER-MEMORABLE GALE OF SEPTEMBER.— Bright Skies in the Midst of the >815 
Tempest. — Suffocating Current of Hot Air. — All New England Desolated 178 

SUBLIME METEORIC SHOWER ALL OVER THE UNITED STATES.- -The Most Grand ^ 
and Brilliant Celestial Phenomenon Ever Beheld and Recorded by Man. — The Whole Firmament of 
the Universe iu Fiery Commotion for Several Hours. — Amazing Velocity, Size and Profusion of 
the Falling Bodies. — Their Intense Heat, Vivid Colors, and Strange, Glowing Beauty. — The People 
Wonder Struck. — Admiration Among the Intelligent. — Alarm Among the Ignorant. — Conflagration 
of the World Feared 228 

MAGNIFICENT AURORA BOREALIS OF 18.37.— A Vast Canopy of Gorgeous Crimson 1837 
Flames Encircles the Earth. — Arches of Resplendent Auroral Glories Span the Hemisphere. — Innu- 
merable Scarlet Columns of Dazzling Beauty Rise from the Horizon to the Zenith. — The Face of 
Nature Everywhere Appears, to an Astonished World, as if Dyed in Blood. — Uncommon Extent and 
Sublimity. — Millions of Wondering Observers 269 

SUDDEN APPEARANCE OF A GREAT AND FIERY COMET IN THE SKIES AT 1:<*1 
NOONDAY. — It Sweeps Through the Heavens, for Several Weeks, with a Luminous Train 
108,000,000 Miles in Length. — Almost Grazes the Sun, and, after Whirling Around that Orb with 
Prodigious Velocity, Approaches the Earth with a Fearful Momentum. Its Mysterious disappear- 
ance in the Unknown Realms and Depths of Space. — Most Notable of all Comets 300 

EXTRAORDINARY DISCOVERIES AND INVENTIONS, SCIENTIFIC EXPEDITIONS, 
AND THE SPLENDID TRIUMPHS OF MECHANICAL GENIUS. 

WHITNEY'S COTTON-GIN INVENTION.— The Inventor's Obscure Circumstances.- His UfS 
Early Mechanical Genius. — Determined to get an Education. — Goes to the South as a Teacher. — 
Befriended by a Widow. — His Inventive Efforts Produce the Cottou-Gin. — It Revolutionizes the In- 
dustrial Prospects and Political Power of the South. — How Cotton Became " King." — Its Relation 
to the Great Themes and Events in American History 98 

FULTON'S TRIUMPHANT APPLICATION OF STEAM TO NAVIGATION.— Fulton's }^« 
Early Mechanisms. — His Experiments and Trials. — Discovery of Steam Propulsion at Last. — Pub- 
lic Ridicule of the Scheme. — Construction of the First Steamboat. — Incidents at the Launch. — Sail- 
ing of the " New-Fangled Craft." — Complete Success of the Trip. — Fulton's Checkered Fortunes. — 
First Steamboat at the West. — The World Indebted to American Ingenuity and Enterprise for this 
Mighty Agent iu Human Progress and Power. — The AVhoIe Scale of Civilization Enlarged. . 150 

MORSE'S INVENTION OF THE ELECTRIC TELEGRAPH.— Realization of the Highest ]^ 
Ideal of a Mechanical Miracle. — Principle, Structure and Operation of the Machine. — Net-Work of 
Lines Established Over the Four Continents. — The Inventor's Experiments, Labors, Discourage- 
ments, and Triumphs. — " Orders of Glory," Gifts, and Other Honors, Bestowed upon Him by 
Crowned Heads 244 

FREMONT'S HEROIC EXPEDITION OF DISCOVERY TO THE UNTRACKED RE- i^a 
GIONOF THE NORTH-WEST, OREGON, CALIFORNIA, ETC.— Fremont a Pioneer of Em- 
pire. — National Objects of this Tour. Enchanting Record of Adventures. Surveys and Researches. 
— His Exploration of the Sierra Nevada, and of that WonderfiJ Gateway in the Rocky Mountains, 



CONTENTS. 15 

the Sonth Pass. — Plants the American Flag on the Highest Peak of that Lofty Range. — He Enriches 
Every Branch of Natural Science, and Illustrates a Remote and Boundless Country before Entirely 
Unknown 285 

DISCOVERY OF THE INHALATION OF ETHER AS A PREVENTI\T: OF PAIN.— is« 
Instinctive Dread of Pain. — Persistent Search for a Preventive. — Discovery of the Long-Sought Se- 
cret. — Honor Due to the Medical Science of America. — Curious Religious Objections. — Account of 
the First Capital Demonstration before a Crowded and Breathless Assembly. — Its Signal Success. — 
Most Beneficent Boon Ever Conferred by Science upon the Human Race 324 

INVENTION OF THAT WONDROUS PIECE OF MECHANISM, THE SEWING- 1846 
MACHINE. — The Woman's Friend. — Romantic Genius and Perseverance Displayed in its Produc- 
tion. — Toils of the Inventor in His Garret. — His Ingenuity, Struggles and Triumphs. — A Machine 
at Last. — World-Wide Introduction of the Device. — The Industrial Interests of the Country Affected 
to the Amount of 3500,000,000 Annually. — The Humble Inventor Becomes a Millionaire. . . 332 

EXPEDITION TO THE RIVER JORDAN AND THE DEAD SEA, BY LIEUT. W. F. HH 
LYNCH, UNDER THE DIRECTION OF THE UNITED STATES GOVERNMENT.— Inter- 
est in the Holy Land. — Equipmeut of the United States Expedition. — On Its Way to the Orient. — 
Anchoring Under Mount Carmel. — Passage Down the Jordan. — The Sacred River Successfully Cir- 
cumnavigated, Surveyed, and Traced to Its Source. — Wild and Impressive Scenery. — Twenty Days 
and Nights upon tlie " Sea of Death." — It is Explored, and Sounded, and its Mysteries Solved. — 
Important Results to Science 354 

DISCOVERY OF GOLD AT SUTTER'S MILL, CALIFORNIA.— First Practical Discovery 1849 
of the Precious Metal. — Simple Accident that Led to It. — The Discovery Kept Secret. — How it wa.n 
Disclosed. — The News Spreads Like Wild-Fire to the Four Quarters of the Globe. — Overwhelming 
Tide of Emigrants from all Countries. — Their Trials. — Life Among the Diggers. — Nucleus of a 
Great Empire on the Pacific. — California Becomes the El Dorado of the World and the Golden 
Commonwealth of the American Union 360 

DISCOVERY OF PETROLEUM IN PENNSYLVANIA.— Discovery of Prodigious Quanti- IBM 
ties of Illuminating Oil in the Depths of the Earth. — Boring of Innumerable Wells. — Fabulous Prices 
Paid for Lands. — Poor Farmers Become Millionaires. — The Supply of Oil Exceeds the Wants of the 
Whole Country. — Immense Exportations of the Article. — Vast Source of National V/ealth and In- 
dustry. — Revolution in Artificial Light. — Ancient Knowledge of this Oil. — Floating on Ponds and 
Creeks. — Its Collection and Use. — Native Sources : Origin 476 

THIRTY THOUSAND MILES OF RAILWAY IN THIRTY YEARS, AND EIGHTY ISM 
THOUSAND IN HALF A CENTURY.— Curious Chronicles Relating to the Introduction of Im- 
proved Means of Transit. — The Old and the New. — Development and Progress. — Numerous and 
Important Advantages. — Great Saving of Time and Expense. — Initiatory Undertakings in the 
United States. — First American Railway witli Steam as the Locomotive Power. — Small Beginnings : 
Great Results. — Amazing Growth and Expansion in all Directions. — Social and Business Changes. 
— Infancy of Mechanism in this Line. — Pioneer Coach and Locomotive. — Successive Steps of Advance- 
ment — Usual Channels of Trade Abandoned. — Power of Capital Demonstrated. — Distant Sections 
and Interests Equalized. — Stimulus to Industry. — Vast Constructive Works Involved. — U. S. Enter- 
prise not Behindhand. — " Breaking tlie Ground." — Less than 20 Miles in 1829. — Some 30,000 Miles 
in 1859. — Constant and Rapid Increase. — Inventive Genius Displ.\ved. — " Improvements " by the 
Thousands. — Steel Rails Substituted for Iron. — Luxury on Wheels. — Palace and Sleeping Cars. — 
Tremendous Speed Attained. — American and Foreign Lines. — Railways 16,000 Feet Above the 
Sea 645 

SUCCESSFUL LAYING OF THE TELEGRAPH CABLE ACROSS THE ATLANTIC lf6« 
OCEAN. — The Old World and the New United by Instantaneous Communication. — Pronounced the 
Grandest of Human Enterprises. — Ten Years of DiflSculty and Failure in the Mighty Task. — The 
Name of Its Indomitable Projector Crowned with Immortal Honor — Illustrations of the Power and 
Wonders of this New-Born Agent of Civilization. — Moral Uses of the Cable 629 

COMPLETION OF THE PACIFIC RAILROAD.— Spikes of the Richest Gold and a Hammer 1869 
of Pure Silver Used in Laying the Last Kail. — The Blows of tlie Sledge Telegraphed to All the 



16 



CONTENTS. 



Great Cities. — The Wide Continent Spanned with Iron from the Farthest East to the Golden Gate. 
— Junction of the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans. — Seven Dave from New Yorlv to San Francisco. — 
Greatest Railroad Route on the Face of the Earth. — " Manifest Destiny " of the United States. 637 

"MIRACLES OF SCIENCE," OR FOUR NEW WONDERS OF THE WORLD.— The 181? 
Electric Light, or Brilliant and Abundant Illumination by Means of Electricity. — The Telephone, or 
Instantaneous Articulate Communication between Distant Points. — The Phonograph, or Talking 
Machine, Reproducing and Preserving Human Utterances, whether of Speech or Song, in all their 
Characteristics. — The Microphone, or Prodigious Magnifier of Sound, however Slight or Remote. — 
Splendor of the Electric Rays. — Former Inventions in this Line. — Prof. Farmer's Early Success. — Ed- 
ison's Improved Device. — Its Special Characteristics. —Sanguine Expectations Entertained. — Interest 
Excited by the Telephone. — Encomiums from English Sources. — Principles of Construction and Use. 
— Simplicity and Serviceableness. — Tens of Thousands in Operation. How the Phonograph waf- 
Developed. — Other Inventions Fairly Eclipsed. — Its Appearance, Form, Outcome. — Words and 
Tones Recorded. — Astonishment and Delight. — Its Five Chief Features. — Marvels of the Micro- 
phone. — A Touch or Tick Audible for Miles. — Arrangement of the Apparatus. — Curious Feats 
Accomplished. — Explanation of this Property 681 

VI. 

APPALLING PUBLIC CALAMITIES, DISASTERS, PANICS, ETC. 

DEATH OF GEORGE WASHINGTON.— His Sudden and Brief Illness, Last Hours and Dying H!? 
Words. — Fortitude and Serenity Through all His Sufferings. — He Calmly Announces His Approach- 
ing Dissolution Without a Murmur. — The Whole World does Honor, by Eulogy and Lamentations, 
to His Exalted Worth and Immortal Fame. — He Anticipated an Early Death. — His Invariably Good 
Health. — Exposure in a Snowstorm. — Takes a Fatal Cold. — Last Letter Written by His Hand. — 
Reads the Papers in the Evening. — Characteristic Reply to His Wife. — Passes a Restless Night. — 
Alarming Condition the Next Day. — Medical Treatment of no Avail. — Calls for His Two Wills, 
Burns One. — Affecting Scene at His Bedside. — Last Words, " 'Tis Well ! " — Only One Day's Sick- 
ness. — Acute Laryngitis His Disease. — Burial in the Old Family Vault. — Tidings of His Death. — 
Tributes from Peoples and Kings. — A Man Without a Parallel. — Last Page In His Journal. — Re- 
entombment in 1837. — Appearance of His Remains 119 

AWFUL EXPLOSION OF COMMODORE STOCKTON'S GREAT GUN, THE "PEACE- 18« 
MAKER." — Stockton's High Enthusiasm. — His Vast and Beautiful Ship. — Styled the Pride of the 
Navy. — Invitations for a Grand Gala Day. — President Tyler Attends. — Array of Female Beauty. — 
Music, Toasts, Wit and Wine. — Firing of the Monster Gun. — " One More Shot ! " and it Bursts. — 
The Secretaries of State and of the Navy, and Other Eminent Persons, Instantly Killed. — Miracu- 
lous Escape of the President. — Sudden Transition from the Height of Human Enjoyment to the 
Extreme of Woe 315. 

AWFUL VISITATIONS OF THE " ANGEL OF DEATH."— Yellow Fever and Cholera Epi- l^l? 
demies at Different Periods. — Frightful Mortality and Panic. — Business Abandoned, Churches Closed, 
Streets Barricaded, Cities Deserted. — Proclamation by the President of the United States. — The 
Virtues, Passions, and Vices of Hnman Nature Strikingly Illnstrated. — Tens of Thousands Swept at 
Once from the Face of the Earth. — Eras of American Epidemics. — Wide and Gliastly Ravages. — 
Self-Preservation the First Law. — Social Intercourse Suspended. — Ties of Affection Sundered. — 
Parents Forsake Children. — Husbands Flee from Wives. — Rich Men Buried Like Paupers. — Money 
and Rank Unavailing. — Rumble of the Dead Carts. — Activity in the Graveyarils — They Look as if 
Plowed Up. — Women in Childbirth Helpless. — Their Screams for Succor. — Care of a Lunatic Pa- 
tient. — The Tender Passion Still Alive. — Courageous Marriages. — Death in the Bridal Chamber. — 
.Vnecdotes of the Clergy. — Crime, Filth, and Disease. — Quacks and Nostrums Rife. — The Celebrated 
"Thieves' Vinegar." 368 

LOSS OF THE SPLENDID COLLINS STEAMSHIP ARCTIC OF NEW YORK, BY ]«^ 
COLLISION WITH THE IRON STEAMER VESTA.— Occurrence of the Disaster in Mid- 
Ocean, at Noonday, in a Dense Fog. — Sinking of the Noble Ship Stern Foremost. — Hundreds of 
Souls Engulfed in a Watery Grave. — Experiences Crowded Into that Awful Hour. — The Wail of 
Agony and Despair from the Fated Throng. — Her Non-Arrival, Painful Suspense. — The Dreadful 
News at Last. — Shock to the Public Mind. — Strong Build of the Arctic. — Prestige of the Collins 
Line. — A Casualty Undreamed of. — Surging Crowd in Wall Street. — Names of Lost and Saved Read. 
— Hope, Joy, Grief, Anguish. — The Sad Tale on aU Lips. — Captain Luce in the Hour of Woe. — 
Manliness of His First Order. — Ship Deserted by the Crew. — " Every Man for Himself " — 42V 



CONTENTS. 1 



TERRIBLE CRISIS IN THE BUSINESS AND FINANCIAL WORLD.— Known as " The 1M7 
(Jreat Panic." — A Sudden Universal Crasli in the Height of Prosperity. — Caused by Wild Speculations 
and Enormous Debt. — Suspension of Baulcs all over tlie Country. — Failure of the Oldest and Wealtli- 
iest Houses. — Fortunes Swept Away in a Day. — Prostration of Every Brancli of Industry. — Pro- 
longed Embarrassment, Distrust, and buffering.— The Panic of 1837 : A Comparison. . . . 447 

ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN, AT FORD'S THEATER, WASHING- IMS 
TON, BY J. WILKES BOOTH.— Conspiracy to Murder, Simultaneously, All the Chief OfiBcers of 
the Government. — The Most Exalted and Beloved of Mortal Rulers Falls a Victim. — A Universal 
Wail of Anguisli Poured Forth from the National Heart. — Darkest Page in the History of the 
Country. — Fuueral Cortege Through Fifteen States. — Tragical Fate of the Couspirators. — Object of 
this Most Infamous of Crimes. — Singular Time of Its Perpetratiou. — \'irtual End of the War. — 
Dawn of Peace: Universal Joy — President Lincoln's Happy Frame of Mind.— How He Passed Hig 
Last Day.— Booth's Swift aud Bloody End.— Trial of His Accomplices 617 

BURNING OF THE CITY OF CHICAGO, ILL., THE COMMERCIAL METROPOLIS OF 1871 
THE NORTH-WEST.— Most Destructive Conflagration in the History of Civilized Nations.— A 
Thirty Hours' Tornado of Fire in all Directions.— Vast Billows of Inextinguishable Flame.— Up- 
wards of Two Thousand Acres, or Seventy-Three Miles of Streets, with 17,450 Buildings, Destroyed: 
Loss, $200,000,000 653 

ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT GARFIELD, AT THE BALTIMORE AND POTO- ]^ 
MAC RAILWAY STATION, IN WASHINGTON, JULY 2.— His Departure from the White 
House with Secretary Blaine on a Brief Tour of Recreation. — Excellent Health and Spirits.— Arrival 
at the Depot. — A Lurking Assassin, C. J. Guiteau, Approaches in the Rear. — A Startling but Harm- 
less Shot, followed by Another which Enters the Body.— The President Sinks to the floor.— A Hideous 
Tragedy. — Capture of the Murderer. — The Wounded Victim Conveyed to tlie Executive Mansion. — 
The Nation Horrified, and the Whole Civilized World Shocked.— Condolences from the Remotest 
Courts and Governments. — Unaffected Sympatliy from all Political Parties. — Past Differences Hushed 
and Forgotten. — Eleven Weeks of Suffering. — Heroism and Resignation of the Patient. — Devotion 
and Fortitude of the President's Wife. — Removal to Lon^ Branch, N. J. — Temporary Relief. — Hover- 
ing between Life and Death. — Solemn Prayers for his Recovery. — Sudden and Fatal End of the 
Struggle. — A Pall over Four Continents. — Tributes from Sovereigns and Peoples the World Over. — 
The Wail and Lamentation of Mankind. — Funeral Procession and Ceremonies. — Queen Victoria's 
Floral Offering on the Bier. — At Rest, in Lake View Cemetery, Clevelaud, Ohio 705 

VII. 

CELEBRATED CRIMINAL CASES, TRAGEDIES AND CONSPIRACIES, Etc. 

TREASON OF MAJOR-GENERAL BENEDICT ARNOLD.— Darkest Page in American Rev- 1180 
olutionary History — Plot to Deliver West Point, the Gibraltar of America, Over to the British. — 
Movements of the Guilty Parties. — Discovery and Fru.'tration of the Crime. — Major Andre, tlie Brit- 
ish Spy, is Captured, aud Swings from a Gibbet. — Escape of Arnold to the Enemy. — Is Spurned and 
Isolated in England. — Arnold's Unquestioned Bravery. — Commended by General Washington — In- 
famous Personal Transactions. — Reprimanded by His Chief. — Determines on Revenge — Correspond- 
3uce with the Foe. — Ingratiates Washington's Favor Again. — Obtains Command of West Point. — 
Midnight Conference with Andre. — Andre Seized while Returning. — Astounding Evidence Against 
Him — Attempts to Bribe His Captors — Carried to American Head-Quarters. — Arnold Apprised of 
the Event — A Hurried Farewell to His Wife. — Quick Pursuit of the Traitor. — He Reaches a British 
Man-of-War. — Washington's E.xclamation at the News. — His Call on Mrs. Arnold. — Andre's Trial 
ar.'^ Conviction — Arnold's Reward for His Crime.— His Unlamented Death 48 

FATAL DUEL BETWEEN MR. BURR AND GENERAL ALEXANDER HAMILTON. -^^ 

— Fall of Hamilton at First Fire — His De.ath in Thirty Hours. — Profound Sensation and Solemn 
Obsequies in all Parts of the Land.— Mourned as One of the Founders of the Republic. — Indictment 
of the Assassin for the Crime of Murder. — Hamilton's Brilliaut Public Life. — Washington's Right- 
hand Man — Cliampion of the Federalists.— Burr's Career in the Revolution — His Notorious De- 
bauchery. — Finally Dismissed by Washington — Becomes Vice-President in 1800 — Deadly Personal 
Hatreds. — Criticisms on Burr by His Opponents — Challenge Sent to Hamilton. — PaciHc Explana- 
tions Spurned — Forced to Meet Burr. — Makes His Will in Anticipation. — Sings at a Banquet the 
Day Before. — Arrival of the Fatal Hour. — Hamilton's Mortal Wound — What He Said of the Event. 
— Conversation before Dying. — Partakes of the Communion. — His Testimony against Dueling. — 
Heartless Condact of Burr — A Fugitive and aa Outlaw 127 



18 CONTENTS. 

CONSPIRACY AND TRIAL OF AARON BURR —Lawless Scheme of Conquest and Domin- ]»!^ 
ion at the South-west. — A New Empire Contemplated, witl\ Burr as Sovereign — Seizure of His Flo- 
tilla and Dispersion of His Men wlien Ready to Embark, by the Federal Forces.^Capture and Ar- 
raignment of Burr for High Treason. — Melancholy End of the Conspirator. — " Theodosia, the 
Beloved." — Reckless Character of Burr. — His Unscrupulous Ambitions. — Enlists Blennerhassett in 
His Plans — Their E.xpedition Arranged. — Mexico the Ultimate Point. — Discovery of the Whole 
Plot. — Its Complete Frustration. — Burr Flees in Disguise. — Scene at His Arrest. — Attemjit to Es- 
cape. — The Iron-Hearted Man in Tears — His Social Fascination. — Preparations for tlie Trial — Its 
Legal and Forensic Interest. — Acquittal on Technical Grounds. — Shunned as Man of Infamy. — De- 
votion of His Dangliter Theodosia — Lifelong and Unalterable Love. — Her Mj'sterious Fate. — Burr's 
Anguish and Agony. — A Moral Wreck and Warning 142 

DUEL BETWEEN HENRY CLAY, SECRETARY OF STATE, AND JOHN RANDOLPH, 1825 
UNITED STATES SENATOR FROM VIRGINIA.— Randolph's Bitter Insult to Clay on the 
Floor of the Senate — Accuses Him of Falsifying an Official Document — The Puritan and "Black- 
leg " Taunt. — Clay Challenges the Senator to Mortal Combat. — Words and Acts of these Two Fore- 
most Men of their Times, on the " Field of Honor." — Result of the Hostile Meeting. — Fame of these 
Party Leaders. — Ancient Political Antagonists. — Origin of the Present Dispute. — Randolph's Gift of 
Sarcasm. — Applies it Severely to Clay. — Clay Demands Satisfaction — Reconciliation Refused. — 
Bladensburg the Dueling Ground. — Pistols the Weapons Chosen. — Colonel Benton a Mutual Friend. 
— Incidents the Night Before. — Randolph's Secret Resolve. — Going to tlie Field of Blood. — View of 
this Shrine of " Chivalry." — Salutations of the Combatants. — Solemn Interest of the Scene. — Dis- 
tance Ten Paces. — A Harmless Exchiinge of vShots. — Clay Calls it " Cliild's Play ! " — Another Fire, 
No Injury. — " Honor " Satisfied — Pleasant Talk with Each Other 196 

CAREER, CAPTURE, AND EXECUTION OF GIBBS, THE MOST NOTED PIRATE 1831 
OF THE CENTURY.— His Bold, Enterprising, Desperate, and Successful War, for Many Years, 
Against the Commerce of all Nations. — Terror Inspired by His Name as the Scourge of the Ocean 
and the Enemy of Mankind- — Scores of Vessels Taken, Plundered and Destroyed. — Their Crews and 
Passengers, Male and Female, Instantly Murdered. — His Capture and Execution 222 

ATTEMPTED ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT JACKSON AT THE UNITED 1S35 
STATES CAPITOL IN WASHINGTON, BY RICHARD LAWRENCE.— Failure of the Pis- 
tols to Discharge. — The President Rushes Furiously upon His As.sailant, and is Restrained from 
Executing Summary Vengeance only by His Friends. — Political Hostility Supposed to have Insti- 
gated the Act. — Lawrence Proves to lie a Lunatic without Accomplices. — His History and 
Trial 286 

MUTINY ON BOARD THE UNITED STATES BRIG-OF-WAR SOMERS, CAPTAIN A. I8« 
S. MACKENZIE —Deep Laid Plot to Seize tlie Vessel, Commit Wholesale Murder of Her Men, 
Raise the Black Flag, and Convert Her into a Pirate. — All Prizes to be Plundered, Burnt, Their 
Crews Butchered, and Women and Girls Ravished. — Midshipman Spencer, Son of a United States 
Cabinet Officer, the Ringleader — Tlie Chief Conspirators Hung at the Yard-Arm — First Mutiny in 
the United States Navy. — Spencer's Hold upon His Comrades. — Death the Penalty of Disclosure. — 
Confidence Fortunately Misplaced. — A JIan of Honor Tampered With. — Captain Mackenzie In- 
formed of the Plot. — Treats it as Wild and Improbable — Confronts and Questions Spencer. — Orders 
Him to be Ironed. — Plan Found in His Razor Case. — Alarming Disaffection of the Crew. — None of 
the Officers Implicated. — Close Investigation of the Case. — Spencer, Cromwell, and Small, to Die — 
Their Fate Announced to Them. — Spencer's Account of His Life. — They Meet on their Way to be 
Hung. — Treatment of Each Other. — Spencer Begs to Give the Last Signal. — Closing Scene of the 
Tragedy. — All Hands Cheer the Ship — Raising the Banner of the Cross 291 

MURDER OF DR. GEORGE PARKMAN, A NOTED MILLIONAIRE OF BOSTON, BY ]!^ 
PROF. JOHN W. WEBSTER, OF HARVARD COLLEGE,— High Social Position of the Par- 
ties. — Instantaneous Outburst of Surprise, Alarm, and Terror, in the Community, on the Discovery 
of the Deed. — Remarkable Chain of Circumstances Leading to the Murderer's Detection. — Solemn 
and E.xciting Trial. — Account of the Mort.al Blow and Disposal of the Remains. — Similar Case of 
Colt and Adams. — Parkman's Wealth and Fame. — His Mysterious Disappearance. — Arrest of Web- 
ster at Night — Behavior in Court — He Boldly Addresses the Jury. — Hung Near the Spot of His 
Birth . • »70 



CONTENTS. 



19 



REIGN OF THjs VIGILANCE COMMITTEE IN CALIFORNIA.— Revoiucion in the Admin- 18M 
istration of Justice. — Powerlessiiess and ludiffereiice of the Regular Authorities. — Robbery, Arson, 
and Murder, Alarmingly Prevalent. — The Committee's Secret Chamber of Judgment. — Sudden Seiz- 
ure and Trial of Noted Criminals. — Solemn Tolling of the Signal Bell. — Swift and Terrible Execu- 
tions. — Renovation of Society 395 

ASSAULT ON THE HON. CHARLES SUMNER, BY HON. PRESTON S. BROOKS.— Km 
Twenty Sudden and Terrible Blows, with a Solid Gutta Percha Cane, Dealt upon Mr. Sumner's 
Bare Head. — He Staggers and Falls, Senseless, Gashed and Bleeding. — Sumner's Great Kansas 
Speech for Free Soil and Free Labor. — Speech by Senator Butler, of South Carolina. — Mr. Sum- 
ner's Scorching Reply. — South Carolinians Offended. — An Assault Determined On. — Mr. Brooks 
Their Champion. — Two D.ay's Watch for His Victim. — Finds Him Alone at His Deslc. — Approaches 
Unobserved. — A quick and Deadly Blow. — Mr Sumner is Instantly Stunned. — His Ineffectual De- 
fense. — Brooks's Accomplices at Hand. — Their Advantage Over Sumner. — Storm of Public Indigna- 
tion. — Action Taken by Congress. — Reign of Terror at the Capital. — Mr. Sumner's Three Years' 
Illness. — Recovery. — Illustrious Career. — Death of Brooks and His Allies. — Time's Retribu- 
tions. 437 

VIII. 

REMARKABLE REFORMS, DELUSIONS, AND EXCITEMENTS IN THE MORAL, 
EDUCATIONAL AND RELIGIOUS WORLD, Etc. 



RISE AND PROGRESS OF THE MORMONS, OR "LATTER-DAY SAINTS," UNDER 183? 
JOSEPH SMITH, THE "PROPHET OF THE LORD."— Smith the "Mohammed of the West." 
— His Assumed Discovery of the Golden Plates of a New Bible. — Secret History of this Transaction. 
Organization of the First Church.— Apostles Sent Forth and Converts Obtained in all Parts of the 
World. — Founding and Destruction of Nauvoo, the " City of Ziou." — Smith's Character and Bloody 
Death. — Brighani Young His Successor. — Removal to Utah, the " Promised Land." .... 214 

BREAKING OUT OF THE TEMPERANCE REFORMATION.— First Temperance Society ]>^ 
in the United States. — Origin, Rapid Spread, Influence and Wonderful History of the Movement. — 
Enthusiasm Attending the " Washingtonian " Era. — Its Pioneers Rise from the Gutter to the Ros- 
trum, and Sway Multitudes by their Eloquence. — Father Mathew's Visit. — His 600,000 Converts. — 
Career of Hawkins, Mitchell, Gougb, Dow, and Others. — Anecdotes of Washington. — General Tay- 
lor's Whiskey-Jug. — Farragut's Substitute for Grog 276 

EXPECTED DESTRUCTION OF THE WORLD.— Miller as a Man and Preacher.- His Ex- H12 
citing Prediction of the Second Advent of Christ. — The Speedy Fulfillment of the Latter-Day Bible 
Prophecies Boldly Declared. — Zealous Promulgation of His Views. — Scores of Thousands of Con- 
verts. — Public Feeling Intensely Wrought Upon. — Preparations by Many for the Coming Event. — 
The Passing of the Time. — Miller's Apology and Defense. — His Calm and Happy Death. . . 307 

TWO HUNDRED YEARS OF FREE POPULAR EDUCATION.— An Experiment in Behalf isw 

of the Highest Civilization. — Condition of the Country Previous to such Efforts. — Early Scenes and 
Customs. — Public Law Invoked and Applied. — Impulse Given to the Work. — Progress and Results. 
— America in the Van. — Most Enlightened and Successful System in the World. — Female Educa- 
tion. — Colleges, Universities, etc. — A Very Modern Idea. — No National System of Education. — Un- 
dertaken by the Individual States. — Effect of Wise Legislation. — State Vieing with State. — School- 
houses in "ye olden time." — The East and the West. — Wonderful Changes in Public Opinion. — 
Some Strange Contrasts. — Architectural Splendor of the Present Day. — Ingenious Helps and Appli- 
ances. — Congressional Grants in Aid of the Cause. — Government Bureau at Washington. — Grand 
Aim and Scope. — Standard of Female Instruction Raised. — Principles and Methods. — The Higher 
Institutions of Learning. — Ideas and Plans at the Start. — Founding of Harvard, Yale, etc. — Then 
and Now. — Nearly 400 Colleges in the U. S. — Some 8,000,000 Common School Pupils. ... 667 

SPIRITUAL KNOCKINGS AND TABLE-TIPPING S.— Familiar Intercourse Claimed to be 1847 
Opened Between Human and Disembodied Beings. — Alleged Revelations from the Unseen World. 
— Singular and Humble Origin, in a Secluded New York Village, of this Great Modern Wonder. — 
Its Development Among all Nations in all Lands. — Astonishing and Inexplicable Character of the 
Manifestations. — Theories of Explanation. — Investigations and Reports. — Views of Agassiz, Her- 
schel, and Other Scientists. — Press and Pulpit Discussions. — Tendency of the Phenomena. — Thirty 
Years' History ,...,..>««• 340 



20 co>n:£NTS- 

THE 'GREAT AWAKEXDfG' IX THE BEUGIOrS WORLD.— like m SEghtr BiKairv «^ 
Wi»i, k Sweeps fzom tbe Mbmar to tfae Fteifie.— Ciovded PtMrer Haeea^ HeU DuIt in £tst 
Oct a^ TovB, fzam Che Gnose HBk of tke S<ink to tke BoffiBg Ftaines of tke West and tiae 
Gold^ Sofi^ a£ r»Kfe»»t. — Laige Aossoas. fnm ill ClisEes, to Ae Ckaicfaes of Etezt Varr» 
aad TV^imiiniiiw TTii "Ameatam FeaeetaetT—TaAj AmfrirM Beriwak.— 3b>a^ and Sv^kej 
m (^tat BotaiB, m Sew Totfc, PWiMfhri. CUaga^ Bostoa, etc— 0e: Fnakfia asi 3Xr. Wihe- 
fidd. — The Keviwd of 1857 SpaataBEoas. — So Ti ■*■ i c» Orgawfapis. — Its bnaediate Cause. — Cci- 
vecal Bin of Piimi hi — -Aasjetr Eor Highs bCeiess. — ^AH Dkvs of the Week AEfce.— ^BBneas 
]^ m the Warfc.- Te t^ gi apM B g B^^ems TiSa^.—Sew Yczk a C^terof IkfccKe.- FaltOB 
Soeet Fnrer Mffting. — Se^^ ia BotoB's Theater. — >iev ThpTS and Aebcas. — CootlesB Be- 
4H9tB £or Fkzras.— A Woadosd Boofc.— Soikog Siocal Bes]l&— Men o£ VtofeKS Brf<»med.— 
Czne aial S^Ue Fmo^ed.— btideis. GawMFm, Fggi&ts.— Jsae FieaHBi's G<dd Bi^.— - At- 
fal'GazdnsaCse. 456 

CWXSECBATIOS of the FIBST CABDDf AL K THE UrSITED STATES.— The \eaam- Hi5 
He AnU^up]lcCki^ker,a£5evTaik, Selected br the Boaan FtanCif^ fior As Great Office.— Ha 
t a Fknee ia the Chnch.— T£e Higheat Ecdesasikal AppointaKBt m Oe CaOofie HiEaaichj. 
i ghen for this Step. — Sol^m IniatHai e, in the Cathedral, br Clmcal B^^^anes fraa 
AS ;^itB ef the CosBtiT. — An Unpoiailded Sc^e. — Hhptrinas Satme <d tins Office. — Spedal Ea- 
TQT sent Sxsm^ Bo»e.— Aaiaiaia ii^, the EioC to Ae Ai^Bhop.— Tine a£ Pabfie Beoig ni tkM 
L— ^A IG^^ StFeaa at BaBBaily.— Derootiaas of the Clandi.— Fmcesan o£ FnestE.^ 
; Oe Alms.— Saezed Veaeb aad Xn*mnek—1aagaM. Fteafiar to this Bank.- The Scaz^ 
let Cap. — PzakmmOr Imfttmam Serrice. — C npme eda^ed am this Oitinfat . — Iwiinmig de Ber- 
letta.— ^btaning aad Chai^ang.— Official letter &«■ the Fk^e.— Fae of the Latin langaage — Id- 
spng Skoms at Mmac—lmniBita Atttwiia g Ae CereamaiaL- Fkaisfical Bwdirtiiw br the 
CazdinL— BaiiaKaca€t^r:efe*-vta.— Di^ecsiaaaf theTatf Tbo^. .' 679 



POPULAB OVATTOXS, XATIOXAL JUBILEES, PAGEAXTS, PEATS, Exa 

TlSnr OF LAFATETTE TO AMERICA, AS THE GUEST OF THE BEPUBLIC, AT 1^ 
THE CTVTTATI'JX OF THE CXITED STATES CONGRESS ASD OF PRESIDEiT 
M05B0E- — His Tuor oc Frsc TlicoaaEii Mi>a icrooga tbe Twenij-foor Stares. — A Xational Ot»- 
tioa oa the Graiai^sti ScaLe. — Ones, States, Legisiazoiea aati Gotucois, Vie in tbeir Demoostiations 
at Bespeet.— The Venaafafe PitziiK Eaces the Toari» and Stands beside the Bi-wins of His GieaC 
DefMiai FrJend, WadiagtaB.— ^WaAiagtaa aad La&jecte.- Ttbdle Qiofities of the Hazijms. 186 

BBnXIAST MTSICAI. TOUB OF JEXST LDTD, THE QUEES OF SOXa— Twenty pa 
Thouaad F^Bons W ek on t Her AnJraL— TnnwfFwfc't Beantr aad Povn of Her Voice.— A 
Whole CoaSaenC ^— .£*—■ J wiA Her Knrtotiag Kdo&a.— Fkaeatt ExhilaatioB ot FeeE^ 
Th iu^hu t Ae laad hr the Freaace at Ae Fair Stglitiwgalc.— Honots fam Wefceta, Clay aad 
OAKlNgHCazies.—HerPtasesFintbeWideWcrid.— The Vocal Fto^y of the Age. . . 386 

THE GREAT DTTEBXATIOSAL REGATTA AT COWES, EXGLAXD.— The Tadit ^a 
* Aaetica' Distances, or Xeaiir Ejghc IGIes, the Whole Fleet of Swift aad Spleadid Coapetitoa^ 
aad Whs 'the Cap o€ aE SiSMmB.'—Gxaaiat aal Mas Exeoi^ Speetade of the Kind Enr 
Kamn.— Qaeen Tictocia WitBesees the 3fateh. — UaiTetaal A^fawirfiiHeat at Oe Besolt. — Admiz>- 
tioa EBcited by the " ■^iBFrira's'' Bcamifal Model and iBgemoas Big. 403 

BECEPTIOX OF GOVERXOR KOSSUTH. THE GREAT HUXGARIAX EXILE, AS Jgt 
THE IXVITED GUEST OF THE XATIOX.— Sifendiii 3IiIBau7- Pageant in Xew Toik, cm ^ 
ArriraL — Wefcom&i and Baccoecai hr Ft^sHAebS ttllmore- — ^Receired with IKaciQgnisiied Official 
Boaocs OB the Floor at Caogxese. — fie Eloqaentlr Fkadi His CoantzrV Caaee in All F^zts at the 

I ml r Ilium. Coagfatahtoey A^iea^s^ AcdaaatioK, etc:.- A Trae-Heatted Patriot^ and 

Gieatest Ontor of &e Dsr. 413 

EXHIBITIO X OF THE IXDUSTRY OF ALL XATIOXS, VS XEW TOBK.— CoiMraetioB 1«! 
of &e Crj-sal Palace, a CGkaeal BmTiffi^ of Glass asd Lroo. — ^Foor Aczss of Surface Coreied with 
the TzEasares of Ait, Science and Miihiaiiiii, float E*eiT Land. — l aa^ i u atiim of the Enterprise 
by Fna^^ Pi e ice- — Fire Thfiiiiiil CoalxibMoia.— Spl^dor of Oe Palace of bdnttzy by Day; 
iBi Goigeaas UliaiiBiiiiai at Xi^ht.— Beaaty, TTtifity, AnnseaKBt.- The Giand ladastries of Ciril- 
i Taa^ by SaA a l^hy^r-Laster Beflerted oa Aasetica. 431 



vIONTESTS. 21 

GRAM) EMBASST FROM THE EiTPIRE OF JAPAX. WITH A TBE.\TT OF PEACE «» 

AM) COMMERCE. Tu THE UNITED STATES GO' •-• — -- - _- ; ^^a»,aojs Etet 

Ses: iroia tba: Anoest CoSBar to a Foragn Load. — Tz r^&omi Bs- 

" ^ : ;' ^rrradaa to the Chief Odk — r . ~ - . 

-: ^ool CoetBBe. liaaaen, C^ - — 

- -.—Headed In- Ensei - — 

— -fi»» to the HoBeL— >: - - :_i 
— Ho^K — Silmar- - — 

— — ^TT=r the Ttojc-- - - - — . — 

— iad DioOenes — ~ Xa^mT,~ liie Latb— — 

— ■■ TirL — Asoeisfcn^: EiTJ'sai&i Iv Tit — ^ » 

r .r; iri: — -^-H-rj. .15 Message ' .... . . 4e5 

TOUR OF HIS ROTAL EIGH>I- 7.7 77 "^-il.: 7 7:>: - -■ 



- . . —Hot 

Wi - - - - > 



ASTOSISHIXG FEATS OF H0KSE-TA3inXG PERFORMED BT MR JOHX S RARET. ] 
— Tbe Most Sava^ aad Fanoas A-;_fc: )lade TiacEaUe as Lanis.— The Fe m oufe aad Far- 
Famed " Cioiser' lies DocOe at Hk M^teT* Fe^t.— A--risr=:r-TS rf W"— f=T sr ^ A^rzirrao« fcj- 
Crc>v^-ie>i Andi^Kes — ^BrilBaBt Homxs it — . :f Me. 

Razev's Method and Saccess. — Details of ;it ^ — . 509 

THE XATIOSAL GRANGE MO VEAfEVT - -fl^'.:-; 

— r-.imges SoBgtit ia the RelanoBS be-rre „ 

- : ;:-!55 aad Aii^ — A STStem of r"-! —■■;_. 

/AiatioBs — ]^izoBsafHK5 - - — IaiaadT« Piotee&a^ i^ 

" — --" '"^raaje Fooded ia \l"i> _ - •-• - Hii^s. — Maisil Pks- 

^SDceaaoit. — SaiaR Er _ ■ Giwth ia Fli^ 

.. - -TbeWeaaadS: — - - ^sssAoiaB.— 

PiTT 7>saTOmid— So: - -.adeis Clcd. 

rie* — 7'rv>diicis — - Tiade Ckslo^ — I^ 

-■ " - — • aata.r= — ^-- — 



CEX-TEXMAL COiCMEMORATIOX OF 7:77 7 7; 7 TIEPUBIJC-— Tetr of] 

Jaliilee, Fetiial, aad l^geaat. UmN^has: ' — ~ -raova c£ 7iri Ns- 

tioa- — AUaka of Xeaily FoKT Gieai: C." r. A»iiA^:t- .-» 

::' TbeCimi^ AaaimaiT. — ^Le^^aiiaB r — A Gia&d Exjo- 

5::::3 <rf the Oeatan-'s Growth and PnigiTC^- — Vij:: TTr-i rf 

FiefOiadaB.— The Whole WiaU at P«9ce. - 

pahGc and its AasjaooBS Eia. — Ushoia^ i — - 

lage. Coroed with Gar Stzeanos aad Wa^ . ^ 

— IToBdroas MioooeB of CSnExatioa C^_.c_lj_ , . ... — _ i 

Skin of SistT Coitarics of Haana Adraaceaeut. aad the T - 

Dfepbrcd in Their Richest 1ItB»ntiaa& — Aa UapRcedeasr- . .^.- -r 1 .^^ _r^. i^ . . ■ ' .~ 

<nTiB« tbe SoIaiatiaBs of the Aaaeticaa Ftefsle — Oruwr. Masae. Poeerr. BeOji. IUbk't .^^ 

BOB. Besattas. Baaaos, HaBdaiihs. aad Hana^— TVe Beaainr. CsiEtT. aad Jlasair 
OiieBt aad Ocodeat. ia Boaadless Co»liiaaiioM — The "Glorioas Foanh '" Afl Orei : — 

Oia^iatalatan- liCtter {nm the Eapemr of Gexmamx ^:3 




1. Signing the Declaration of Indepeni>- 

ENCE (Frontispiece) 

2. Preface, --------- 

3. The Opened Pages, -_---- 

4. Symbolical Head-piece, _ - - - - 
B. Genius of Art, ------- 

6. Riaging of the Bell, July 4th. 1776, - 

7. Hall of Independence, Philadelphia, 1776, 
8 Hoisting First Naval Flag, - - - - - 
9. John Paul Jones; Portrait and Autograph, 

10. First American Naval Victory, 

11. Wonderful Dark Day, May 19, 1780, - 

12. Traveling during the Dark Day, - - - 

13. Change of Scene after the Dark Day, 

14. The House where CornwalUs Surrendered 

15. Arnold's Reward for Treason, - - - - 

16. Capture of Major Andre, - - - - - 

17. General Arnold, with Autograph, - - - 

18. AVest Point in 1780, - 

19. Arnold's Head-quarters, - - - - - 

20. Corxwallis's Surrender, - - - - 

21. Cornwallis; Portrait and Autograph, 

22. "Washington's Sword, ------ 

23. The Washington Elm, Cambridge, Mass., 

24. Washington's Resignation, - - - - 

25. Amity between England and America, - 

26. George the Third; Portrait and Autograph, - 

27. First Minister to England,— Reception 

OF John Adams, ------ 

28. John Adams; Portrait and Autograph, - 

29. Enrolling the Constitution, - _ - - 

30. Convention at Philadelphia, 1787, - 

31. Franklin Pleading for Pacification, - 

32. Washington's Inauguration Bible, - - - 

33. First Inauguration of a President, 

34. Presidential Mansion, 1789, - - - _ 

35. Presidential Mansion, 1876, - - - - 

36. Treating with the Indians, - - . - - 

37. Wayne's Defeat of the Indians, 

38. Anthony Wayne; Portrait and Auiograjih, - 

39. General St. Clair; Portrait and Autograph, - 

40. "Little Turtle;" Portrait, - - - - 

41. Results of the Cotton-Gin, - - - - - 

42. Eli Whitney's Cotton-Gin, 1703, - 

43. Eli Whitney; Portrait and Autograph, - 

44. Causes of the Whiskey Insurrection in Penn., 

45. Famous Whiskey Insurrection in Pennsylvania, 

46. David Bradford; Portrait, 

47. General Henry Lee; Portrait, - - - - 

48. Washington, D. C, in 1876, - - - - 

49. National Capitol in 1876, ----- 117 

50. Symbolic Statue of Ameiica, on the U.S.Capitol, 117 



51. Martha Washington; Portrait and Autograph, 120 

52. Death of Washington, December 14, 1799, 122 
63. George Washington, as Colonel, - , _ 123 
54. George Washington, General U. S. A., - - 124 
65. George Washington, President of the United 

States; Portrait and Autograph, - - 124 

56. Tomb of Washington, ------ 126 

57. Scene of the Burr and Hamilton Duel, Wee- 

hawken, -------_i3i 

58. Hamilton's Tomb, - 127 

69. Aaron Burr, with Autograph, - - - - 128 

60. Alexander Hamilton with Autograph, - - 128 

61. Total Solar Eclipse, in 1806, - - - 135 

62. Progress of the Solar Eclipse, - - - - 136 

63. Total Eclipse, in 18G9, ----- 137 

64. Eclipse, as seen in Brazil, ----- 140 

65. Burr's Flight, 142 

6G. Breaking up of Burr's Expedition, - - 146 

67. BuiT and His Deluded Followers, - - - 146 

68. Theodosia; Portrait and Autograph, - - 148 

69. First Steam-boat on the Hudson, - - - 150 

70. "B-ohert Fulton; Portrait and Autograph, - 151 

71. Fulton's First Steam-boat, - - - 153 

72. After the Earthquake, 156 

73. Scene of the Great Earthquake in the West, - 168 

74. Earthquake t.cENE in San Francisco, - 161 

75. Perry's Flag on Lake Erie, - - _ _ 163 

76. Commodore Perry ; Portrait and Autograph, 165 

77. Battle of Lake Erie,— Perry's Victory, 167 

78. General Harrison; Portrait and Autograph, - 170 

79. American Defenses at New Orleans, - - 171 

80. Andrew Jackson; Portrait and Autograph, - 174 

81. Battle of New Orleans, — Jackson's 

Terrific Slaughter of the British, - 176 

82. Destruction by the Great Gale and Flood, - 178 

83. The Ever-Memorable Gale, September 23, 1825, 180 

84. Horrors of the Whirlwind throughout New 

England, --------183 

85. The Landing of Lafayette at New York, - 186 

86. Lafayette; Portrait and Autograph, - - 188 

87. Sword of Honor Presented to Lafayette, - 190 

88. Lafayette's Residence, ----- 191 
80. Lafayette's Birthplace, ----- 193 

90. Lafayette's Tomb, - 195 

91. Preliminaries of the Code of Honor, - - 196 
02. Henry Clay; Portrait and Autograph, - - 198 

93. John Randolph; Portrait a7id Autograph, - 200 

94. Dueling-Ground at Bladensbcrg, - - 202 

95. The Victor's Wreath, 206 

96. Robert Y. Hayne; Portrait, - - - - 207 

97. Daniel Webster; Portrait, - - - - 209 

98. Webster's Reply to Hayne. - - - 213 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 



23 



9S. 
100. 
101. 
102. 
103. 

IW. 
105. 

106. 
107. 
108. 

109. 
110. 

111. 
112. 
113. 
114. 
115. 

116. 
117. 
118. 

119. 

120. 
121. 
122. 
123. 

124. 

125. 
126. 
127. 
12«. 
129. 

130. 
131. 

132. 



133. 

134. 
135. 
136. 
137. 

138. 
139. 



141. 
142. 
143. 
144. 
145. 

146. 
147. 

148. 
149. 

ISO. 



SUBJECT. 

rAOE. 

iJoseph Smith; Portrait and Autograph, - 216 

Brigham Young; J'ortrait and Autograph, - 218 

Mormon Temple, .__--- 220 

Salt Lake Citv, the Mormon Zion, - - 221 

Appeal of a Beautiful Girl to Gibbs to Spare 

her Life, 222 

Pirate Gibbs; Portrait, ----- 224 

GiDBS BlTTCHERISa THE CREW OF ONE OF 

HIS Prizes, ------- 226 

Meteoric Shower at Boston, - - - 228 
Meteoric Shower, as seen at Niagara Falls, - 230 
Kemarkable Jleteorio Display on the Missis- 
sippi, ------ --. 233 

The Preservation, ------ 236 

Attempted Assassination of President 

Jackson, ---...- 238 

Richard Lawrence; Portrait, - - - - 240 

Hanging the Telegraph Wire, . . - - 244 

The Original Telegraphic Instrument, 246 

Professor Morse; Portrait and Autograph, - 248 
Orders of Glory Conferred on Professor 

Morse, 250 

Monster Petition to Congress, - . - - 252 

John Quincy Adams; Portrait and Autograph, 254 
John Quincy Adams Defending the 

Right of Petition in Congress, - - 258 
Safe Place for the Key to Public Funds, - 263 
Thomas H. Benton; Portrait and Autograph, 265 
Fac-Simile Copy of Expunging Kesolution, - 267 
Singular Form of Auroral Arch, - - - 269 
Magnificent Aurora Borealis of No- 
vember 13 AND 14, 1837, - - - - 271 
View of the Aurora Borealis in its early Stages, 274 
EtTect of the Temperance Keformation, - 276 

Signing the Pledge, 279 

Distinguished Temperance Advocates, 282 

Exploring the North-west, - - - - 285 

Planting -American Flag on the Rocky Mount- 
ains, by Fremont, ------ 287 

John C. Fremont; Portrait and Autograph, - 288 
Fremont on his Great Exploring Tour to the 

Far West and Rocky Mountains, - - 289 
Mutiny on Board the United States Brig Som- 
ers; Hanging of the Ringleaders from the 

Yard-arm, 297 

The Black Flag Intended to be Raised on 

Bo.ard the United States Brig Somers, - 291 

Commodore MacKenzie, with Autograph, - 203 

Midshipman Spencer, with Autograph, - - 295 

View of the Comet when Nearest the Earth, 303 
Appearance of the Comet in Full 

Splendor, .-..--- 304 

Telescopic View of the Comet, - - - 306 
The Great Day Prophesied by the Second 

Adventists, ------- 307 

Symbolical Illustrations of the Sec- 
ond Advent Prophecies, - - - - 309 

William Miller; Portrait and Autograph, - 313 

Stockton's Great Gun, the '* Peacemaker," - 315 

President Tyler; Portrait and Autograph, - 316 

Secretary Gilmer; Portrait and Autograph, 318 
Explosion of the Great Gun on Board the 

United States Steamship Princeton, - - 319 
Secretary Upshur; Portrait and Autograph, 320 
Commodore Stockton; Portrait and Auto- 
graph, 322 

Relieving Pain by the Use of Ether, - - 324 
The Three Claimants of the Discovery of 

Painless Surgery, by Ether, - - - - 326 
Monument Erected in Honor of the 

Discovery of Ether, ----- 330 



NO. 

151. 
152. 
153. 

154. 
155. 
ISO. 
157. 
158. 
159. 
130. 

la. 

162,, 
163. 
164. 
165. 
16 . 
167. 

168. 
169. 
170. 
171. 
172. 

173. 

175. 
175. 
176. 
177. 
178. 
179. 
ISO. 
181. 
182. 
183. 
184. 
185. 
186. 
187. 

188. 
189. 

190. 
191. 

192. 
193. 

194. 
195. 
196. 



197. 
198. 



199. 
200. 
201. 
202. 
203. 
204. 
205. 

206. 

207. 
20S. 



SUBJECT. 

PAJR, 

The Inventor Toiling in His Garret, - - 332 

TS.Waa'H.ovie, Jr.; Portrait and Autograph, - 331 
The Old and New: Sewing by Hand and 

Machine, --336 

House in which Spiritual Rappings Originated, 340 

The Misses Fox; Portraits, - - - . 340 

D. D. Home; Portrait, ----- 343 

Cora L. V. Hatch; Portrait, - - - - 345 

Spiritual Autograph of Lord Bacon, - - 346 

A. J. Davis; Portrait, ----- 345 

Judge Edmonds; Portrait, - - - - 346 

Spiritual Autograph of Swedenborg. - - 345 
Storming of Chapultepec, - - - .347 

President Polk; Portrait and Autograpf- - 348 

General Taylor; Portrait and Autajraph, - 349 

Santa Anna; Portrait and Autograph, - - 350 

General Scott; Portrait and Autograph, - 351 
General Scott's Grand Entrance into 

the Mexican Capital, - - - - 362 

Lieutenant Lynch; Portrait and Autograph, 356 

Valley OF THE Jordan AND Dead Sea, - 357 

Right Bank of the Dead Sea, - - - - 358 

Mining Operations in California, - - - 360 
Sutter's 1\Till, where Gold was First 

Discovered in 1848. ----- 362 

John A. Sutter; Portrait, ----- 363 

James W. Marshall; Poj'^j'ai*, - . - - 366 

Struck with the Cholera, ----- 368 

Monument to the Victims of Cholera, - 370 
Horrors of tlie Great Epidemic, - - - 372 
Professor Webster's Murder Appliances, - 376 
Doctor Parkman; Portrait and Autograph, - 378 
Professor Webster; Portrait and Autograph, 380 
Professor Webster's Cell in Prison, - 382 
Jenny Lind; Portrait and Autograph, - - 388 
P. T. Barnum; Portrait and Autograph, - 390 
Jenny Lind's Appearance at Castle Garden, 392 
Double Execution in San Francisco, - - 396 
Seal of the California Vigilance Committee, 397 
Executions by the Vigilance Commit- 
tee, IN San Francisco, . • - . 400 
George Steers; Portrait, ----- 406 

Yacht America; J. C. Stevens, Commo- 
dore, --------407 

*' Cup of All Nations," Won by the America, 409 
United States Steamer Mississippi, convey- 
ing Kossuth, ------- 412 

Governor Kossuth; Portrait and Autograph, 414 
Grand Military Reception of Govern- 
or Kossuth in New York, - - - 417 
Interior of the AVorld's Fair, New Y''ork, - 421 
Theodore Sedgwick; Por-trait and Autograph, 423 
Crystal Palace of New y'ork, for the 
Exhibition of the Industries of All 
Nations, -------- 425 

Steamship, Arctic, ------ 429 

Loss of the Collins Steamship Arctic 
by Collision at Noonday in Mid- 
ocean, -------- 433 

Assault on Senator Sumner, by P. S. Brooks, 443 

Liberty for Kansas, ------ 437 

Hon. Charles Sumner, with Autograph, - 441 

Hon. P. S. Brooks, with Autograph, - - 444 

Hon. A. P. Butler, with Autograph, - - «s 

Run on a Bank, ------- 44/ 

Excitement in Business Circles during 

THE Great Panic, ----- 449 

Effects of the Hard Times, - - - - 461 

Book of Requests for Prayers, - - - - 466 

Group of Eminent Revival Preachers, dur- 
ing the National Century, - - - . 4flC 



24 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 



ntlRJECT. 
KO. FAOR. 

209. Dwlght L. Moody ; Portrait, - - - - 464 

210. Ira 1). Sankey; Portrait, ----- 464 

211. Uevival Meetings, Moody asd Sankey, 4(i6 

212. State Capital of Illinois, 469 

213. Debate BEfWEEN Lincoln AND Douglas, 470 

214. Stephen A. Do\ig\as; Portrait and Autograph, 474 

215. Petroleum Wells, 476 

216 Petroleum Wells in Pennsylvania, - - - 478 

217. Process of Boring for Petroleum, - . - 479 

218. Burning of One of the Great Oil AV'ells, 482 

219. Japanese Box Containing the Treaty, - - 485 

220. Reception of THE Kmb.\ssy fro.m Japan, 487 

221. Ambassadors Sinimi Boojsen Nokami and 

Mooragaki Awajsi Nokami, - - - - 491 

22i. The Prince of Wales at Washington's Tomb, 494 

223. Prince of Wales; Portrait and Autograph, - 495 

224. Ball Given TO the Prince OF Wales, - 498 

225. Flag of Fort Sumter after the Bombardment, 502 

226. Major Anderson, with Autograph, - - - 503 

227. General Beauregard, with Autograph, - - 505 

228. Interior of Fort Sumter after Bombardment, 507 

229. "Cruiser " Untamed, - ----- 6U9 

230. John S. Rarey; Portrait, ----- 511 

231. Mr. Rarey's Method of Taming Horses, ^ - 514 

232. Monument on the Bull Run Battle-field, - 518 

233. General McDowell; Portrait and Autograph, 519 

234. General Johnson ; Portrait and Autograph, - 521 

235. Battle of Bull Run, ----- 623 

236. Interior of the Tower of the Monitor, - - 526 

237. Com. Buchanan ; Portrait and Autograph, - 528 

238. Combat between the Merrimac and Monitor, 531 

239. Lieut. Worden ; J'ortrait and Autograph, - 533 
24". Burying the Dead at Autietam, . - - 535 
2<*. General .McClellan; /*oWra(/a/wf ^H^Of/ra^A, - 537 

242. General Burnside; Portrait and Autograph, - 538 

243. Battle of ,\ntietam, ----- 539 

244. General " Stonewall" Jackson; Portrait, - 540 

245. General Hooker; Portrait and Autograph, - 541 

246. Pen used iu Signing the Proclamation, - - 544 

247. Secretary Seward; Portrait and Autograph, - 645 

248. Secretary Stanton; Portrait and Autograph, 546 

249. President Lincoln; Portrait and Autograph, 547 
2.50. Proclam.^tiox of E-MANcipation, - - 549 
2,'»1. Operations at Vicksburg, ----- 554 
2.5.'. General J. C. Pemberton, ----- 556 

253. Sieoe AT Vicksburg BY General Grant, 557 

254. General .McPherson; Portrait, - - - - 559 

255. Interview between Grant and Pemberton, - 560 

256. General Meade's Head-quarters, - - - 563 

257. General Meade, with Autograph, . - - 5C5 

258. Battle of Gettysburg, ------ 667 

259. General Longstreet, with Autograph, - - 569 

260. Soldiers' Monument at Gettysburg, - - 571 

261. Henry Ward Beecher; Vignette Portrait, • 613 

262. Beecher Defendi.vg the A.meeican 

Union, in Exeter Hall, London, - - 575 

263. Mr. Beecher's Church, Brooklyn, N. Y., - 579 

264. Merchant Vessel burned by the Alabama, - 581 

265. Captain Seinmes, with Autograph, - - - 583 

266. Captain Winslow, with Autograph. - - - 685 

267. Contest between the Kearsarge and -Alabama, 587 

268. Farragut's Flag-Ship, " Hartford," - - -690 
2(M. Admiral Farragut, ------ 591 

270. Admiral Porter, - - 591 

271. Admiral Foote, - - - - , - - 591 

272. Admiral Dupont. - , 691 

273. Admiral Farragut's Victory in Mobile Bay, - 594 

274. Head-quarters .Atlanta, Ga., - - - - 598 

275. General Sherman; Portrait and Autograph, - 600 

276. Sherman's Grand March through the South, 602 

277. General Lee's Surrender to Lieut. Gen. Grant, 607 



rub.iect. 

KO. PASS. 

278. Richmond Entered by the Union Army, - 610 

279. Lincoln's Early Home, . _ . _ - 517 
2^u. Ford's Theater at Washington, - _ _ 618 

281. ASSA.SSISATION of President Lincoln, - 6'20 

282. House where Lincoln died, . . . _ cjl 

283. J. Wikes Booth; Portrait and Autograph, - 622 

284. Lincoln's Residence at Springfield, 111., - - 623 

285. Sergeant Boston Corbett; Portrait, - - - 624 

286. Burial Place of Lincoln, ----- 626 

287. Section of the Atlantic Cable, - - - - 629 

288. Cyrus W. Field; Portrait and Autograph, - 631 

289. Arrival of the Great Eastern with Cable, - 635 

290. Mountain Scene on the Pacific Railroad, - 648 

291. COillPLETION OF THE P.\( IFIC RAILROAD, - 641 

292. Traveler's Dependence in Olden Times, - - 645 

293. Locomotive " Rocket," - . . _ - g46 

294. Locomotive of To-day, - - . _ _ 647 

295. Original Steam Car, ------ 648 

296. Modern Railway Car, ------ 649 

297. Metropolitan Elev.\ted Railroad, N.Y , 652 

298. Mr. Ogden's House Untouched in the Midst 

of the Great Fire, ------ 653 

299. Burning of Chicago, Oct. 8 and 9, 1871, - 667 

300. Emble.m of I.sdustrv; I'ignellp, - - . 660 

301. Symbols of Co-operative Labor Organizations, 662 

302. Spirit of the Grange MovE.MEXT, - - 664 

303. The School-house as it was, - - - 667 

304. Yale College in 1784, 668 

305. Old King's College, 668 

306. First Harvard College, 668 

307. North-Western University, - . - - 669 

308. Normal School, New York, - - - - 670 

309. View of Yale College Grounds, - - - - 672 

310. View of Harvard College Grounds, - - - 673 

311. The Great Catholic Cathedral, New York, - 675 

312. Archbishop McCloskey; Portrait, . - - 676 

313. Consecration of the First A.merican 

Cardinal, ------- 678 

314. Electric Lamp, ------- 681 

31.5. Electric Light AT Sea, - - - . - 683 

316. Thomas A. Edison, with Autograph, - - 684 

317. The Phonograph, ----- . 685 

318. House in which .Jefferson wrote the Declara- 

tion of Independence. - - - - 689 

319. Opening of the Centennial E.xhibition, 691 

320. The Corliss Engine, ------ (;92 

321. E.xhibition Buildings in Philadelphia, 694 

322. Independence Hall, July 4, 1876, - - 695 

323. Union SQO.tRE, New York, July 4, 1876, - 697 

324. Reading The Original Declaration of 

Independence, .Tulv 4, 1876. - - - 699 

326. Entrance of the N. Y. 7th Regiment, - - 701 
326 State Avenue, at the Centennial, - - - 702 

327. Woman's Pavilion, at the Centennial, - - 703 

328. The Tunisian Tent, at the Centennial, - - 704 

329. All Hail TO THE Hereafter! . - - 706 

330. Flag of the German Empire, - - - - 707 

331. E.MPERfiR Willi.\m, with Autograph, - - 707 

332. Assassination OF President Garfield, - 709 

333. View of Garfield's Home at Mentor, - - 710 

334. Portrait of .Mrs. Garfield, - - - - 711 

335. Portrait of Prest. Garfield's Mother, - - 714 

336. Portraits of Drs. Agncw, Hamilton and Bliss, 716 

337. Francklyn Cottage, Elberon, - - - 717 
3.'18. Portrait of President Garfield, - - - 718 

339. Death of President Garfield, - - - - 720 

340. Body Lying in State in the Capitol Rotunda, 722 

341. Viewing the Remains at Cleveland, O., - • 724 

342. Receiving A'ault. ...--- 725 
31.1. Lake View Cemetery, - . - . . 726 
114. '■ Victoria's " Floral Offering, - - - - 726 



BIRTH OF THE NEW REPUBLIC— 1776. 



Declaration of American Independence and National Sovereignty, Jnly Fourth, 1776. The Gauntlet of 

Defiance thrown at the Feet of the British Empire hy Her Youngest Colonies. — Vast Disparity, in 
Power and Resources, between the Contestants. — The whole World looks on Astonislied. — Seven 
Years' Bloody and Desolating War. — Tlie American Cause Triumphant.— Grandest Modern Event. — 
America Resists Unjust Taxation. — Haughty Obstinacy of King George. — Burning Eloquence of Pat- 
riclc Henry. — His Summons, " We Must Figlit." — Wa.shington Endorses tliis Sentiment. — Determina- 
tion of the People. — War Preferred to Submission. — Momentous Action by Congress. — Separation 
from England Decreed.— Effect of the Act in America. — Its Reception in England. — Excitement of the 
King and Court. — Lord Chatham, America's Advocate. — His Passionate Change of Views. — Scorch- 
ing Speech against the Colonies.— He is Struck Dead while Speaking. — Magnanimity of Burke and 
Fox. — Recognition from France Secured. — Her Timely Aid in the Struggle. — Victories over the 
Britisli Armies. — England Gives Up tlie Contest. — World-wide Welcome to the New Nation. 



" It will be celebrated by euceeedin^ peneralinnB. as the creat anniversary feelival. It nueht to bp commemorated as the day of delivernnce, 
by solemn acts of devotion to Almighty God. It ouL'bt to be solemnized with pomp end parade, with shows, games, sports, gune, belli, bon- 
fires, and illuminations, from one eod of the continent to the other, from this time forth, forevermore.''— John Adaus. 



NE HUNDRED YEARS ago, namely, on 
the Fourtli of July, I77C, tliere was born in 
the western world a New Nation, — the Ri:- 
PUBLic OF THE United States. Defiance lo 
tyrants was emblazoneti in empyreal light upon 
her brow, and Freedom and Justice were the 
frontlets between her e3-es. Mon- 
arclis, crowned with kingly dia- 
dems, stood awed at the august 
manifesto, and at the solemn ar- 
raignment of King George before 
the judgment of mankind, and 
parliaments and cabinets started 
in dismay to their feet ; but the 
People, as thej' descried the eagle 
of Liberty spreading her wings, 
and soaring proudlj' aloft, breath- 
ed freer and took stronger heart, 
as the clear ring of her voice 
sounded through the air, declar- 
ing, with grandly rounded enun- 
ciation, that "all men are created 
equal." 
Refusing to pay the tribute of taxation arbitrarily imjiosed 
upon them at the point of the baj'onet by the British crown, — 




RINGING OF THE BELL, JULY 4, 1776. 



26 



BIRTH OF THE NEW EEPUBLIC. 



failing, too, to move the king and his min- 
isters from their career of liauglity and 
reckless obstinacy, — the thirteen American 
colonies found themselves reduced to the 
alternative of abject submission to their 
so-called royal masters, or of armed resist- 
ance. Already there had flashed through- 
out the country the electric words of Pat- 
rick Henry, " We must fight ! An appeal 
to arms and to the God of Hosts is all 
that is left us. I repeat it, sir, we must 
fight ! " And as the blood of patriot 
hearts had now flowed freely and bravely 
at Concord, and Lexington, and Bunker 
Hill, Washington declared, in words of 
solemn emphasis and characteristic brevitj', 
" Nothing short of Indepemdence, it ap- 
pears to me, can possibly do." He also 
warmly approved and commended Paine's 
pamphlet, " Common Sense," written to 
this end. The sons of liberty shouted their 
responsive acclaim to this manly summons 
from the great American soldier — Wash- 
ington — and, like the sound of many wa- 
ters, the spirit of national independence 
which thus possessed the people came upon 
the continental congress, then in session in 
the State-house at Philadelphia, Pennsyl- 
vania. 

It was in this temple of freedom, where- 
in was sitting as noble and august a legis- 
lative body as the world ever saw, that 
Richard Henry Lee introduced a resolu- 
tion, on the 7th of June, 1776, declaring, 
"Tliat the United Colonies are and ought 
to be free and independent States, and that 
their political connection with Great Brit- 
ain is and ought to be dissolved." Upon 
this resolution tliero sprang up at once an 
earnest and powerful debate. It was op- 
posed, principaily, on the ground that it 
was premature. Some of the best and 
strongest advocates of colonial rights spoke 
and voted against the motion, which at last 
was adopted only by a vote of seven States 
in its favor to six against. Some of the 
delegates had not received definite instruc- 
tions from their constituents, and others 
had been requested to vote against it. Its 
further consideration was accordingly post- 
poned until there was a prospect of greater 



unanimity. On the eleventh of June, 
therefore, a committee was appointed to 
draft a formal Declaration ; this commit- 
tee consisting of Benjamin Franklin, John 
Adams, Thomas Jefferson, Roger Sherman, 
and Robert R. Livingston. 

On the twenty-eighth of June, the com- 
mittee made their report, and presented 
the Declaration which they had drawn up. 
The first or original draft was penned by 
Mr. Jefferson, chairman of the committee. 
On the second of July, congress proceeded 
to the serious consideration of this mo- 
mentous paper; the discussion, as to the 
tone and statements characterizing the 
document, and the propriety of adopting 
at that time a measure so decisive, lasted 
for nearly three days, and was extremely 
earnest. It was so powerfully opposed by 
some of the members, that Jefferson com- 
pared the opposition to " the ceaseless ac- 
tion of gravity, weighing upon us by night 
and by day." Its supporters, however, 
were the leading minds, and urged its 
adoption with masterly eloquence and abil- 
ity. John Adams, Jefferson asserts, was 
" the colossus in that debate," and "fought 
fearlessly for every word of it." The bond 
which was formed between those two great 
men on this occasion seems never to have 
been completely severed, both of them 
finally expiring, with a sort of poetic jus- 
tice, on the fiftieth anniversary of the act 
which constituted their chief glory. 

Well and truly did the mighty patriot 
Adams characterize this event as the most 
memorable epoch in the history of Amer- 
ica. " I am apt to believe," said he, " that 
it will be celebrated by succeeding genera- 
tions, as tlie great anniversary festival. It 
ought to be commemorated as the day of 
deliverance, by solemn acts of devotion to 
Almighty God. It ought to be solemnized 
with pomp and parade, with shows, games, 
sports, guns, bells, bonfires and illumina- 
tions, from one end of this continent to 
the other, from this time forth forever- 
more ! " The result has equaled the great 
patriot's wishes. Tradition gives a dra- 
matic effect to its announcement. It was 
known, throughout the city, that tlic great 



BIRTH OF THE NEW REPUBLIC. 



27 



event was to be determined that day, by 
the last formal acts ; but the closed doors 
of couoress excluded the populace from 
witnessing the august assembly or its pro- 
ceedings, though thousands of anxious 
citizens had gathered around the building, 
eager to hear the words of national des- 
tiny soon to be officially proclaimed. From 
the hour when congress came together in 
the forenoon, all business was suspended 
throughout the city, and the old bellman 
steadily remained at his post in the steeple, 
prepared to sound forth to the waiting 
multitudes the expected glad tidings. He 
had even stationed a boy at the door of the 
hall below, to give immediate signal of the 
turn of events. This bell, manufactured 



felt such a professional pride, the electri- 
fied old patriot rung fortli such a joyous 
peal as was never heard before, nor ceased 
to hurl it backward and forward, till every 
voice joined in its notes of gladness and 
triumph. The roar of cannon, and illu- 
minations from every house and hill-top, 
added to these demonstrations of uni- 
versal rejoicing. 

And this was the type of that exultation 
which everywhere manifested itself, as the 
news spread with lightning rapidity from 
city to city and from State to State. Every 
American patriot regarded the declaration 
by congress as the noble performance of 
an act which had become inevitable ; and 
the paper itself as the complete vindica- 




HALL OF I^DEPK^'DE^"CE, PHTLAIIELPHIA, 1776. 



in England, bore upon its ample curve the 
now prophetic inscription, "Proclaim lib- 
erty throughout all the land unto all the 
inhabitants thereof." Hours passed on, 
and fear began to take the place of hope 
in many a heart ; even the venerable and 
always cheerful bellman was overheard in 
his despondent soliloquy, " They will never 
do it! they will never do it!" Finally, 
at about two o'clock in the afternoon, 
the door of the mysterious hall swung 
open, and a voice exclaimed, "Passed! — 
it has passed ! " The word was caught up 
by ten thousand glad mouths, and the 
watch-boy now clapped his hands and 
shouted, "Ring ! Ring!" Seizing the iron 
tongue of the bell in which he had long 



tion of America before the bar of public 
opinion throughout the world. When it 
was read by the magistrates and other 
functionaries, in the cities and towns of 
the whole nation, it was greeted with 
shouts, bonfires, and processions. It was 
read to the troops, drawn up under arms, 
and to the congregations in churches by 
ministers from the pulpit. Washington 
hailed the declaration with joy. It is 
true, it was but a formal recognition of a 
state of things which had long existed, but 
it put an end to all those temporizing hopes 
of reconciliation wliich had clogged the 
military action of the country. On the 
ninth of July, therefore, Washington 
caused it to be read at six o'clock in tile 



2S 



BIRTH OF THE NEW EEPUBLIC. 



evening, at the liead of each brigade of 
the army. " The general hojses," said he 
in his orders, "tliat this important event 
will serve as a fresh incentive to every 
officer and soldier, to act with fidelity and 
courage, as knowing that now the peace 
and safety of his country depend, under 
God, solely on the success of our arms ; 
and that he is now in the service of a 
State, possessed of sufficient power to re- 
ward his merit, and advance him to the 
highest honors of a free countrj-." The 
troops listened to the reading of this with 
eager attention, and at its close broke forth 
in tumultuous applause. 

The excitable populace of New York 
were not content with the ringing of bells 
and the other usual manifestations of 
public joy. There was a leaden eques- 
trian statue of George the Third in the 
Bowling . Green, in front of the fort. 
Around this kingly effigy the excited mul- 
titude, surging hither and thither, unit- 
edly gathered, and pulling it down to the 
ground, broke it into fragments, which 
fragments were afterwards conveniently 
molded into bullets and made to do service 
against his majesty's troops. Some of the 
soldiers and officers of the American army 
having joined in this proceeding, Wash- 
ington censured it, as having much the 
appearance of a riot and a want of disci- 
pline, and the army was ordered to abstain, 
in the future, from all irregularities of the 
kind. 

In Boston, that citadel of radical insub- 
ordination to "his majesty," the public 
joy knew no bounds, and even the British 
prisoners were courteously summoned to 
witness the sjjirit with which a brave peo- 
ple, determined to be free, dared to defy 
the British throne. On the seventeenth 
of July the British officers on parole re- 
ceived each a card from the governor, re- 
questing the honor of said officer's attend- 
ance at a specified hour on the morrow, in 
the town hall As rumors were pretty 
well afloat, however, touching the decided 
step that had been taken at Philadelphia, 
the officers were not without a suspicion us 
to the purport of the meeting, and hesi- 



tated for a while as to the consistency of 
giving the sanction of their presence to a 
proceeding which they could not but re- 
gard us traitorous. Curiosity, however, 
got the better of these scruples, and it was 
resolved, after a brief consultation, that 
the invitation ought to be accepted. 

On entering the hall, the king's officers 
found it occupied by 'rebellious' function- 
aries, military, civil, and ecclesiastical, and 
among whom the same good humor and 
excitement prevailed as among the throng 
out of doors. The British officials were 
received with great frankness and cordi- 
ality, and were allotted such stations as 
enabled them to witness the whole cerc- 
mon3'. Exactly as the clock struck one. 
Colonel Crafts, who occupied the chair, 
rose, and, silence being obtained, read 
aloud the declaration, which announced to 
the world that the tie of allegiance which 
had so long held Britain and her North 
American colonies together, was forever 
separated. This being finished, the gen- 
tlemen stood up, and each, repeating the 
words as they were spoken by an officer, 
swore to uphold, at the sacrifice of life, 
the rights of his country. Meanwhile, the 
town clerk read from a balcony the solemn 
declaration to the collected multitude ; at 
the close of which, a shout began in the 
hall and passed like an electric spark to 
the streets, which now rang with loud huz- 
zas, the slow and measured boom of can- 
non, and the rattle of musketry. The 
batteries on Fort Hill, Dorchester Neck, 
the castle, Nantasket, and Long Island, 
each saluted with thirteen guns, the artil- 
lery in the town fired thirteen rounds, and 
the infantry scattered into thirteen divis- 
ions, poured forth thirteen volleys, — all 
corresponding to the number of states 
which formed the Union. There was also 
a municipal banquet, at which speeches 
were made and toasts drank ; and in the 
evening a brilliant illumination of the 
houses. 

In Virginia, the proclamation of inde- 
pendence was greeted with that same 
ardor of enthusiasm which for so many 
years had characterized the people of that 



BLRTK OF THE NEW EEPUBLIC. 



29 



ancient commonwealth, in the course of 
politiL-al freedom. In South Carolina, too, 
the declaration was read to the assembled 
multitudes, amid the greatest rejoicings, — 
public addresses, military and civic proces- 
sions, bands of music, firing of cannon, 
and kindred demonstrations of popular 
favor. In all the colonies, indeed, the 
declaration was hailed as the passing away 
of the old w^rld and the birth of the 
new. 

But the declaration, though it thus 
solemnly inaugurated a new nation and 
made the colonies, for the time, the theater 
of patriotic jubilee, involved startling per- 
ils and imposed momentous duties ; for it 
was a defiant challenge to combat thrown 
by a mere province in the face of the most 
colossal power in all Christendom. This 
important paper commences with stating 
that, "When ia the course of human 
events it becomes necessary for one people 
to dissolve the political bands which have 
connected them with another, and to as- 
sume among the powers of the earth, the 
separate and equal stations to which the 
laws of Nature, and of Nature's God, en- 
title them, a decent respect to the opinions 
of mankind requires that they should de- 
clare the causes which impel them to the 
separation." 

The causes are then stated, and a long 
enumeration of the oppressions complained 
of by America is closed by saying that 
" a prince, whose character is thus marked 
by every act which may define a tyrant, is 
unfit to be the ruler of a free people." 
History may be searched in vain for words 
so bold and scathing, used by a colony 
against a powerful sovereign. 

The fruitless appeals which had been 
made to the people of Great Britain are 
also recounted, but " they too," concludes 
tliis declaration, "have been deaf to the 
voice of justice and of consanguinity. We 
must, therefore, acquiesce in the necessity 
which denounces our separation, and hold 
them, as we hold the rest uf mankind, 
enemies in war, in peace friends." Then 
comes the portentous conclusion — 

"We, therefore, the representatives of 



the United States of America, in general 
congress assembled, appealing to the Su- 
preme Judge for the rectitude of our inten- 
tions, do, in the name, and by the author- 
ity of the good people of these colonies, 
solemnly pul^lish and declare, that these 
United Colonies are, and of right ought to 

be, FREE AND INDEPENDENT STATES ; that 

they are absolved from all allegiance to 
the British crown, and tliat all political 
connection between them and the State of 
Great Britain, is, and ought to be, totally 
dissolved ; and that, as free and independ- 
ent states, they have full power to levy 
war, conclude peace, contract alliances, 
establish commerce, and do all other acts 
and things, which independent states may 
of right do. And for the support of this 
declaration, with a firm reliance on the 
protection of Divine Providence, we mutu- 
ally pledge to each other, our lives, our 
fortunes, and our sacred honor." 

In the whole country, however, between 
New England and the Potomac, which 
was now to become the great theater of 
action, although a vast majority was in 
favor of independence, there existed an 
influential number, who not only refused 
to act with their countrymen, but were 
ready to give information and aid to the 
enemy. Most of these tories were wealthy 
and haughty, and rendered themselves ex- 
tremely unpopular. Laws passed by the 
new State authorities had subjected these 
persons to fines and imprisonments, and 
their property to confiscation. They en- 
dured many outrages, and were treated to 
" tarrings and feathering " innumerable, 
by the more violent among the angry pop- 
ulace. To prevent these outrages, con- 
gress gave the supervision of tories to 
committees of inspection. Many of these 
obnoxious families finally left the country, 
and in course of time the torj' element was 
eradicated or completely silenced. 

Scarcely less interesting and important 
is the character of the reception which 
this remarkable iocument met on its ar- 
rival in England. Of the noble band of 
American patriots wlio had been chosen to 
deliberate and act for the best good of the 



m 



BIRTH OF THE NEW REPUBLIC. 



)ppressed colonies, and who, preceding the 
final act of the declaration of independ- 
ence, had sent forth the most magnani- 
mous appeals to Britain's sense of justice, 
' — of these men and their works, there had 
gone forth one of the grandest eulogies 
from the elder Pitt (Lord Chatham), the 
greatest of Britain's statesmen, who, in 
his place in parliament, dared to say — 

' I must declare and avow that in all 
my reading and study — and it has been 
my favorite study ; I have read Thucydi- 
des, and have studied and admired the 
master states of the world — that, for so- 
lidity of reasoning, for force of sagacity, 
and wisdom of conclusion, under such a 
complication of circumstances, no nation 
or body of men can stand in preference to 
the general congress of Philadelphia." 

But when, a few years after, it was pro- 
posed, by the ^British prime minister, to 
conciliate the exasperated colonies by treat- 
ing them as a people possessing certain 
independent riglits and powers, Pitt 
showed tlie exalted estimation iu which 
he held the rebellious colonies as part of 
the British realm, by opposing such a 
course, in a speech of almost dramatic 
power and effect, and from which, owing 
to the exhaustion it produced in his own 
shattered system, the great peer and ora- 
tor almost immediately died. 

In France, the declaration o\ independ- 
ence; by the American colonies was greeted 
with secret satisfaction by the court and 
rulers, and aroused to universal gladness 
tlie popular heart. Reviewing the scene 
and its actors, one of the most brilliant 
and popular orators of that intrepid nation 
was led to say: "With what grandeur, 
with what enthusiasm, should I not speak 
of those generous men who erected this 
grand edifice by their patience, their wis- 
dom, and tlieir courage ! Hancock, Frank- 
lin, the two Adamses, were the greatest 
actors in this affecting scene ; but they 
were not the only ones. Posterity shall 
know them all. Their honored names 
shall be transmitted to it by a happier 
pen than mine. Brass and marble shall 
show them to remotest ages, ^n behold- 



ing them, shall the friend of freedom feel 
his heart palpitate with joy — feel his eyes 
float iu delicious tears. Under tlie bust of 
one of them has been written, ' He wrested 
thunder from heaven and the scepter from 
tyrants.' Of tlie last words of this eulogy 
shall all of them partake." Still more preg- 
nant were the words of the great Mira- 
beau, as, citing the grand principles of the 
American Declaration, from his place in 
the National Assembly, " I ask," he said, 
" if the powers who have formed alliances 
with tlie States have dared to read that 
manifesto, or to interrogate their con- 
sciences after the perusal ? I ask whether 
there be at this day one government in 
Europe — the Helvetic and Batavian con- 
federations and the British isles excepted 
— wliich, judged after the principles of the 
Declaration of Congress on the fourth of 
July, 1776, is not divested of its rights ! " 
For more than a year, commissioners 
from congress, at tlie head of wliom was 
Dr. Franklin, resided at the court of 
France, urging upon that government to 
acknowledge the independence of the 
United States. But the success of the 
American struggle was regarded, as yet, 
too doubtful, for that country to embroil 
herself in a war with Great Britain. But 
that great event, the capture of the British 
•nrmy at Saratoga, seemed to increase the 
probability that the American arms would 
finally triumph, and decided France to 
espouse her cause. The aid which France 
now brought to the Americans was of 
great importance. It is even doubtful 
whether the colonies, without her contri- 
butions of money, navy, and troops, would 
have been able to resist Britain with final 
success; at least, the struggle must have 
been greatly prolonged. To this inter- 
vention, however, France was inclined, by 
her own hostility to England, whom she 
delighted to see humbled, especially by a 
people struggling for independence. Fi- 
nally, after the surrender of Cornwallis to 
General Washington, the French court 
pressed upon congress the propriety of ap- 
pointing commissioners for negotiating 
peace with Great Brita,iD.. In accordance 



BIRTH OF THE NEW KEPUBLIC. 



31 



•with this advice, John Adams, Benjamin 
Franklin, Jolm Jay, and Henry Laurens, 
were appointed. The commissioners met 
Messrs. Fitzherbert and Oswald, on the 
part of Great Britain, at Paris, and provi- 
sional articles of peace between the two 
countries were there signed, November 
thirtieth, 1782; the definitive treaty being 
signed on the third of September, 1783. 
Holland acknowledged the independence 
of the United States in 1782 ; Sweden, in 
February, 1783; Denmark, in the same 
month; Spain, in March ; Russia, in July. 
And thus, the Republic of the United 
States of America became an inde- 
pendent power among the nations of the 
earth. 

It was not unknown to the wise and 
venerable enactors of the Declaration, that 
their signatures to such an instrument 
would be regarded in England as an act 
of treason, rendering them liable to the 
halter or the block. In the full apprecia- 
tion of all this, every man of them placed 
his name upon the immortal parchment. 
The only signature which indicates a 



trembling hand, is that of Stephen Hop- 
kins, but this was owing to a nervous 
affection ; for, so resolute was ho in con- 
gress, that, when some of the members 
suggested a hope of reconciliation, Mr. 
Hopkins replied, that " the time had come 
when the strongest arm and the longest 
sword must decide the contest, and those 
members who were not prepared for action 
had better go home." The boldest signa- 
ture is that of John Hancock, he whom 
the British had excepted in their offers of 
pardon, as one "whose offenses are of too 
flagitious a nature to admit of any other 
consideration but that of condign punish- 
ment." The number who signed the Dec- 
laration was fifty-six ; and the average 
length of their lives was about sixty-five 
years. Carpenters'Hall — or Independence 
Hall — in Philadelphia, where these tre- 
mendous scenes transpired, (is still one of 
the places which every American looks, 
upon with patriotic pride ; for within that 
temple was born a Nation, in whose des- 
tiny were wrapped the interests of Liberty 
and Civilization to the end of time. 



II. 

FIRST AMERICAN NAVAL VICTORY.— 1779. 



Joliii Paul Jones, Commanding tlie Bon Homme Ricliard, Fights and Captures King George's Power, 
iul Ship-of-war. tlie Serapis, in Britisli Waters.— Crowds of Spectators Line the Englisli Coast. — The 
Most Sanguinary Battle Ever Fought Between Single Ships. — Jones is Hailed as "The Washington 
of the Seas." — World-wide Interest of this Combat. — Commodore Jones's Early Career. — Offers his 
Services to Congress. — Appointed a Naval Lieutenant. — Joins the Continental Fleet. — The First to 
Hoist its Ensign. — Style and Motto of the Flag. — Sails from France on a Cruise. — Terror Created by 
his Movements, — Characteristic Anecdotes. — Two Britisli Frigates in Sight. — Jones Ready for Bloody 
Work. — The Ships Muzzle to Muzzle. — Superiority of the Serapis. — A Most Deadly Contest. — Both 
Vessels on Fire. — Jones Attacked by Another Foe. — One of his 'Vessels Treacherous. — Remarkable 
Scenes. — Britain's Flag Struck to America. — An Act Without Precedent. — Sinking of the Victori- 
ous Vessel, 

<••► 

" The must obaliiiatc and blo-Mly battle in the annsla of navfil warfare."— J. Fk-NIMOHk Coopbb. 




UCH an exploit as tliat performed by Jolin Paul Jones, in 1779, 
by which, in plain sight of the English coast, he flung to the breeze 
the galhint ensign of the United States, and, with Britons as wit- 
K*<-t~^'^'> "^fr ' '"^^^^^ °^ '^'^ daring, fought, victoriously, a battle which has always 
I V^~vi. been spoken of as the most obstinate and sanguinary combat tliat 
I fc|'\>^^ s^S"" occurred between single ships, can never be read of by Ameri- 
cans with other than the deepest and most enthusiastic interest. The 
victor}- came, too, at one of the darkest hours in the revolutionary cam- 
paign, and served to gladden and encourage, for the time being, the de- 
spondent hearts of honest patriots. The vaunted invincibleness of the 
British navy became a by-word of contumely, the world over, from the 
time Jones nailed his flag to the mast, and, under the calm 
sky and round harvest moon of September, dealt forth a storn"- 
of death and desolation upon the enemies of his adopted coun- 
try. The action may well be pronounced one of the most 
terrible on record, from its unusual duration for a naval bat- 
tle, from the ferocity which the combatants displayed, and 
from the proximity of the two vessels, the muzzles of the 
ships' batteries almost reaching into each other's port-holes, 
John Paul was born in Scotland, on the sixth day of 
July, 1747, and the scenery and associations of his birth- 
place — Arbigland — and its vicinity, donbtle.'s encouraged 
that restless spirit of adventure and love of change, as 
well as that ardent enthusiasm in the objects of his pur- 
suit, which so strikingly characterized his career through life. 
At the age of twelve, he was apprenticed to a merchant 
of Whitehaven, who carried on a considerable trade with 




HOISTIKG FIRST NAVAL FLAG, 



FIRST AMEBIC AiS' MAVAL VICTORY. 



80 



the American colonies. His first voyage 
was made before he was thirteen years old, 
beino- to Virginia, where his elder brother 
was established as a planter. He was after- 
ward engaged for a short time in the slave 
trade, which he left in disgust, and made a 
number of voyages to the West Indies. 

In 1773, John Paul removed to Virginia, 
to attend to the affairs of his brother, who 
had died childless and intestate. He now, 
for some unknown reason, assumed the ad- 
ditional surname of Jones, and which ho 
retained through life. At the commence- 
ment of the revolutionary conflict, his feel- 
ings became warmly enlisted in the cause 
of the colonies, and this spirit fully pre- 
pared him for the active part he soon un- 
dertook in their behalf. An offer of his 
services, which lie made to the colonies, 
was accepted, and, on the twenty-second 
of December, 1775, by a resolution of con- 
gress, he was appointed lieutenant in the 
American navy. 

It was Lieutenant Jones who hoisted, 
with his own hands, the first American 
naval flag on board the American frigate 
Alfred, the flag-ship, the natioiial ensigii 
leinff thus for the first time displayed from 
a man-of-war. The circumstances attend- 
ing this interesting occasion are stated to 
have been as follows : The Alfred was an- 
chored off the foot of Walnut street, Phila- 
delphia. On a brilliant morning, early in 
February, 1776, gay streamers were seen 
fluttering from every mast-head and spar 
on the river Delaware. At nine o'clock, a 
full-manned barge thridded its way among 
tlie floating ice to the Alfred, bearing the 
commodore. He was greeted by the thun- 
ders of artillery and the shouts of a multi- 
tude. When he reached the deck of the 
flag-ship. Captain Salstonstall gave a sig- 
nal, and Lieutenant Jones gallantly pulled 
the ropes which wafted the new flag mast- 
head high. It was of yellow silk, bearing 
the figure of a pine tree, and the signifi- 
cant device of a rattlesnake in a field of 
thirteen stripes, with the ominous legend, 
" DonH tread on ine!" This memorable 
act, it was Jones's high honor and privilege 
to perform when in his twenty-ninth year; 



an honor, too, of which, as events afterward 
proved, he was fully worthy. 

On the fourteenth of August, 1779, Jones 
sailed from the roadstead of Groix, France, 
in command of a small squadron, consisting 
of the Bon Homme Richard, forty-two guns, 
the Alliance, thirty-six guns, the Pallas, 
thirty-two guns, the Cerf, twenty-eiglit 
guns, and the Vengeance, twelve guns. 
Two privateers afterwards joined them, but 
did not continue with them till the end of 
the cruise. The efficiency of the expedi- 
tion was marred by a want of subordination 
on the part of some of the officers, who do 
not appear to have been willing to yield 
prompt obedience to orders. Captain Lan- 
dais, of the Alliance, habitually disregarded 
the signals and orders, throughout the 
cruise, and, towards the close, committed 
acts of open hostility to his superior. But, 
notwithstanding the difficulties against 
which he had to contend, Jones inflicted 
great damage on the enemy ; he coasted 
Ireland, England, and Scotland, making 
many prizes, and carrying terror wherever 
he appeared. 

But the action which gave the most dis- 
tinguishing renown to Jones's brilliant ca- 
reer, and which so earlj' gave prestige to 
American prowess on the ocean, is that of 
which a detailed account is given below : 

It was about noon, on the twenty-third 
of September, 1779, a fleet of over forty 
sail appeared off Flamborough Head, on 
the coast of Yorkshire, and Jones at once 
gave up the pursuit of a vessel in whose 
track he was just then following, with all 
possible speed, and made signals for a gen- 
eral chase. The sails in sight were a fleet 
of English merchantmen, under convoy of 
the ships-of-war Serapis and Scarborough, 
and as soon as they saw themselves pur- 
sued they ran in shore, while their convoys 
that protected them bore off from the land 
and prepared for an engagement. The 
Bon Homme Richard set every stitch of 
canvas, but did not come into fighting po- 
sition toward the enemy until about seven 
o'clock in the evening, at which time, from 
the darkness having set in somewhat, ob- 
jects on the water were dimly discerned, 



34 



FIRST AMEKICAN NAVAL VICTORY. 



tlicugh not with such difficulty as would 
have been the case liad not the moon 
shone forth with great brightness, and the 
weather proved serene and beautiful. 
When within pistol-shot, the hail from the 
Serapis, " What ship is that ? " was 
answered, " I can't hear you." Captain 
Pearson says the answer was, " The Prin- 
cess Royal." A second hail was answered 
by a thundering broadside from the bat- 
teries of the Richard, — a signal that in- 
dicated a hot and bloody encounter at 
hand, as the sequel soon proved. 

The American ship, it may here be re- 
marked, was much inferior to her antag- 
onist, being, in fact, an old vessel, clumsy, 
and unmanageable. She carried six 
eighteen-pounders on the lower gun deck, 
fourteen twelve-pounders and fourteen 
niue-pounders on the middle gun deck, 
two six-pounders on the quarter-gun 
deck, two six-pounders on the spar deck, 
one six-pounder in each gangway, and two 
six-pounders on the forecastle. She was 
manned hy three hundred and eighty 
men and boys. The Serapis, on the other 
hand, was a new ship, built in the best 
manner, and with a much heavier arma- 
ment. She mounted twenty eighteen- 
pounders on her jower gun deck, twen'y 
nine-pounders on her upper gun deck, six 
six-pounders on her quarter deck, four 
six-pounders on the forecastle ; and she 
had a crew of some three hundred and 
twenty men. 

Captain Cottineau, of the Pallas, en- 
gaged the Scarborough, and took her, after 
an hour's action, while the Bon Homme 
Richard engaged the Serapis. 

In pile earlier part of the action, the 
superior sailing qualities of the Serapis 
enabled her to take several advantageous 
positions, which the seamanship of Paul 
Jones, hampered by the unmanageable 
character of his craft, did not enable him 
to prevent. Thus he attempted to lay his 
ship athwart the enemy's bows, but the 
bowsprit of the Serapis sweeping over the 
Richard's poop, was grappled and lashed, 
and her stern swung round to the bow of the 
Bon Homme Richard by the action of the 



wind ; the vessels lay yard-arm and yard- 
arm, the muzzles on either side actually 
touching the enemy. But long before this, 
many of the eighteen-pound shot of the 
Serapis had entesed the Richard's hull be- 
low the water-mark, and she leaked in a, 
threatening manner. Just before they 
closed, Commodore Pearson hailed his ad- 
versary : " Has your ship struck ? " "7 
haven't begun to fight yet ! " thundered 
forth the brave Jones, in reply. 

A novelty in naval combats .sras now 
presented to many witnesses, but few ad- 
mirers, — says Lieutenant Dale, who par- 
ticipated in the conflict, — the rammers 
being run into the respective ships to en- 
able the men to load after the lower ports 
of the Serapis had been blown away, to 




r~1^ 




make room for running out their guns, 
and in this situation the ships remained 
until between ten and twelve o'clock, 
P. M. From the commencement to the 
termination of the action, there was not a 
man on board the Richard who was igno- 
rant of the superiority of the Serapis, both 
in weight of metal, and in the qualities of 
the crew. The crew of that ship were 
picked seamen, and the ship itself had 
been only a few months off the stocks; 
whereas the crew of the Richard consisted 
of part Americans, English and French, 
and a part of Maltese, Portuguese, and Ma- 
lays, these latter contributing by their 
want of naval skill and knowledge of the 
English language, to depress rather than 
encourage any reasonable hope of succes.s 
in a combat under such circumstances. 



FIRST AMERICAN NAVAL VICTORY, 



35 







xMm 



■J It'll 

■ II* 




36 



FIRST AMERICAN NAVAL VICTORY. 



One of the most disheartening facts in 
the early part of tlie action, was the silenc- 
ing of the battery of twelve-pounders, on 
which Jones Lad placed his principal de- 
pendence. 

Brave and dauntless sailor as he was, 
Jones stuck to his little battery, and stimu- 
lated bis men with word and example. 
While one of the nine-pounders vomited 
double-headed shot against the mainmast 
of the Serapis, the two others swept her 
decks with grape and canister. The fire 
was so hot from the nine-pound battery and 
the tops, that not a man could live on the 
deck of the English ship. But all this 
while, her lower battery of eighteen-pound- 
ers was making an awful ruin of the Rich- 
ard. The terror of the scene was also soon 
heightened beyond the power of language 
to depict, by both vessels taking fire, which 
required almost superhuman exertion to 
subdue, and, in the midst of all, Jones and 
Lis heroic men were horror stricken to see 
their consort, the Alliance, commanded by 
Captain Landais, come up and pour a full 
broadside into the Richard's stern ! The 
evidence is regarded as most conclusive, 
that Captain L.'s conduct on this occasion 
was not due to any mistake on his part in 
supposing the Richard to be the Serapis, 
but to his personal hostility to Jones. 
With jealousy and treason in his heart, his 
plan was to kill Jones, and, capturing the 
Serapis, claim the victory as his. But the 
black-hearted Frenchman failed in his plot. 
A quantity of cartridges on board the Ser- 
apis was set fire to by a grenade from 
Jones's ship, and blew up, killing or wound- 
ing all the officers and men abaft the main- 
mast. But long after this the fight went 
on with fury. 

At last, the mainmast of the Serapis be- 
gan to totter to its fall — her fire slackened, 
and, about half-past ten o'clock, the British 
flag was struck, and Commodore Pearson 
surrendered his sword to his really weaker 
foe. In going through the formalities of 
this scene, Pearson displayed much irrita- 
bility, and, addressing Jones as one who 
fought under no recognized flag, said : 

" It is painful to deliver up my sword to 



a man who has fought with a halter around 
his neck." 

"Sir," replied Jones, good humoredly, 
as he handed back the weapon, "you have 
fought like a hero, and I make no doubt 
but your sovereign will reward you in the 
most ample manner." 

True enough, the gallant Pearson soon 
received from King George the dignity of 
knighthood as an acknowledgment of his 
bravery in this unparalleled battle, — hear- 
ing of which honor, Jones is said to have 
drjdy remarked : "AVell, he deserved it; 
and should I have the good fortune to 
meet with him again, I will make a lord 
of him!" 

Another episode occurred in connection 
W'ith a medical officer, — the surgeon of the 
Richard, — who ran up from the cock-jjit, 
in great fright and trepidation, and hur- 
riedly accosting the captain, said : "Are you 
not going to strike the colors ? Is not the 
ship fast sinking? " " What ! doctor," re- 
plied Jones, " would you have me strike to 
a drop of water ? Here, help me get this 
gun over ! " The doctor, as though answer- 
ing a sudden professional call, was soon 
retracing his steps to the cock-pit. 

So terribly was the Richard cut to pieces 
(being an old ship), that it was found im- 
possible, after the fight, to get her into 
port, and, the wounded being removed, she 
soon after sank. 

Jones took his prizes to Holland, and it 
is no exaggeration to say that the whole 
world stood astonished at his bravery and 
success. 

A most interesting account of this cele- 
brated battle between the Serapis and 
Richard was given, soon after its occur- 
rence, by Commodore Jones himself, a 
portion of which, describing in his own 
dramatic style, the principal scenes during 
the engagement, is given below : 

On the morning of that day, September 
twenty-third, the brig from Holland not be- 
ing in sight, we chased a brigantine that ap- 
peared laying to, to windward. About 
noon, we saw and chased a large ship that 
appeared coming round Flamborough Head 
trom the northward, and at the same time 



FIRST AMERICAN NAVAL VICTORY. 



I manned and armed one of the pilot boats 
to send in pursuit of the brigautine, which 
now appeared to be the vessel that I had 
forced ashore. Soon after this, a fleet of 
forty-ono sail appeared off Flamborough 
Head, bearing N. N. E. This induced me 
to abandon the single ship which had then 
anchored in Burlington Bay ; I also called 
back the pilot boat, and hoisted a signal 
for a general chase. When the fleet dis- 
covered us bearing down, all the merchant 
ships crowded sail toward the shore. The 
two ships-of-war that protected the fleet at 
the same time steered from the land, and 
made the disposition for battle. In ap- 
proaching tlie onenij-, I crowded every pos- 
sible sail, and made the signal for the line 
of battle, to which the Alliance paid no at- 
tention. Earnest as I was for the action, 
I could not reach the commodore's ship 
until seven in the evening, being then 
within pistol-shot, when lie hailed the Bon 
Homme Richard. We answered him by 
firing a whole broadside. 

The battle being thus begun, was con- 
tinued with unremitting fury. Every 
method was practiced on both sides to gain 
an advantage and rake each other ; and I 
must confess that the enemy's ship, being 
much more manageable than the Bon 
Homme Richard, gained thereby several 
times an advantageous situation, in spite 
of my best endeavors to prevent it. As I 
had to deal with an enemy of greatly su- 
perior force, I was under the necessity of 
closing with him, to prevent the advantage 
wliicli he had over me in. point of ;na- 
neuver. It was my intention to l.xy the 
Bon Homme Richard athwart the enemy's 
!)inv ; but as that operation required great 
dexterity in the management of both sails 
and helm, and some of our braces being 
shot away, it did not exactly succeed to my 
wish. The enemy's bowsprit, however, 
came over the Bon Homme Richard's poop, 
by the niizzenmast, and I made both ships 
fast together in that situation, which by 
the action of the wind on the enemy's sails, 
forced her stern close to the Bon Homme 
Richard's bow, so that the ships lay square 
alongside of each other, the yards being 



all entangled, and the canuon of each ship 
touching tlio op[)onent's. 

I directed the ilro of one of the three 
cannon against the mainmast, with dou- 
ble-headed shot, while the other two were 
exceedinglj'- well served with grape and 
canister shot, to silence the enem}''s mus- 
ketry and clear her decks, which was at 
last effected. The enemy were, as I have 
since understood, on the instant of calling 
for quarter, when the cowardice or treach- 
ery of three of my under-officers induced 
them to call to the enemy. The English 
commodore asked me if I demanded quar- 
ter, and I, having answered him in the 
most determined negative, they renewed 
the battle with double fury. They were 
unable to stand the deck; but the fire of 
their cannon, especially the lower batter}', 
which was entirely formed of ten-pound- 
ers, was incessant; both ships were set on 
fire in various places, and the scene was 
dreadful beyond the reach of language. 
To account for the timidity of my three 
undcr-ofGcers, I mean the gunner, the car- 
penter, and the master-at-arms, I must 
observe, that the two first were slightly 
wounded, and, as the ship had received 
various shots under the water, and one of 
the pumps being shot away, the carpenter 
expressed his fears that she would sink, 
and the other two concluded that she was 
sinking, which occasioned the gunner to 
run aft on the poop, without my knowl- 
edge, to strike the colors. Fortunately for 
me, a cannon-ball had done that before, by 
carrying away the ensign-staff; he was 
therefore reduced to the necessity of sink- 
ing, as he supposed, or of calling for quar- 
ter, and he preferred the latter. 

All this time the Bon Homme Richard 
had sustained the action alone, and the 
enemy, though much superior in force, 
would have been very glad to have got 
clear, as appears by their own acknowledg- 
ments, and by their having let go an an- 
chor the instant that I laid them on board, 
by which means they would have escaped, 
had I not made them fast to the Bon 
Homme Richard. 

At last, at half-past nine o'clock, the Al- 



38 



FIRST AMERICAN NAVAL VICTORY, 



liance appeared, and I now thought the 
battle at an end ; but, to my utter aston- 
ishment, he discharged a broadside full 
into the stern of the Bon Homme Richard. 
We called to him for God's sake to forbear 
firing into the Bon Homme Eichard; yet 
they passed along the off side of the ship, 
aud continued firing. There was no pos- 
sibility of his mistaking the enemy's ship 
for the Bon Homme Richard, there being 
the most essential difference in their ap- 
pearance and construction. Besides, it was 
then full moonlight. The Bon Homme 
Richard received various shots under wa- 
ter from the Alliance ; the leak gained on 
the pumps, and the fire increased much on 
board both ships. Some officers persuaded 



me to strike, of whose courage and good 
sense I entertain a high opinion. My 
treacherous master-at-arms let loose all my 
prisoners without my knowledge, and my 
prospects became gloomy indeed. I wouhl 
not, however, give up the point. The ene- 
my's mainmast began to shake, their firing 
decreased fast, ours rather increased, and 
the British colors were struck at half an 
hour past ten o'clock. 

This prize proved to be the British ship- 
of-war, the Serapis, a new ship of forty- 
four guns, built on the most approved con- 
struction, with two complete batteries, one 
of them of eighteen-pounders, and com- 
manded by the brave Commodore Richard 
Pearson. 



THE WONDEEFUL D.VHK DAY. 



39 



■^KK- *•*• 




Ijik .\ 1 I in ' »'lli» ■ iJMi* '^* 



III. 

THE WONDERFUL DARK DAY.— 1780. 



Tlie Nortliern States wrapt in a Dense Black Atmospliere for Fifteen Hours. — Tlie Day of Judgment 
Supposed to have Come. — Cessation of Laljor. — Religious Devotions Resorted to. — The Herds 
Retire to their Stalls, the Fowls to tlieir Roosts, and the Birds Sing their Evening Songs at Noonday.— 

Science at Loss to Account for the Mysterious Phenomenon. — One of Nature's Marvels. Redness of 

the Sun and Moon.— Approach of a Thick Vapor.— Loud Peals of Tliunder.— Sudden and Strange 
Darkness. — Alarm of the Inhabitants. — End of the World Looked For. — Dismay of the Brute Crea- 
tion. —An Intensely Deep Gloom. — Difficulty in Attending to Business. — Lights Burning in the 
Houses. — Vast Extent of the Occurrence. — Condition of the Barometer. — Change in the Color of 
OI>jects.— Quick Motion of the Clouds.— Birds Suffocate and Die.— The Sun's Disc Seen in Some 
Places.— Oily Deposit on the Waters.— Impenetrable Darkness at Night.— Incidents and Anecdotes.— 
Ignorant Whims and Conjectures. — An Unsolved Mystery. 



"The Dark Day in northern America was one oftliose wonderful phenomena of nature wliich will ulwuya be reud of with intereot. but 
which philosophy is at a loss to explain."— IIbrsciiel. 




DIFFICULTY OF TKAVELIKG. 



LMOST, if not altogether alone, as the most 
mysterious and as j-et unexplaine I phenome- 
non of its kind, in nature's diversified range of 
events, during the last century, stands the 
Dark Day of Mai/ Nineteenth, 1780, — a most 
unaccountable darkening of the whole visible 
heavens and atmosphere in New England, — 
which brought intense alarm and distress to 
multitudes of minds, as well as dismay to the 
brute creation, the fowls fleeing, bewildered, to 
their roosts, and the birds to their nests, and 
the cattle returning to their stalls. Indeed, 
thousands of the good people of that day be- 
came fully convinced that the end of all things 
terrestrial had come ; many gave up, for the 
time, their secular pursuits, and betook them- 
selves to religious devotions; while many others regarded 
the darkness as not only a token of God's indignation 
against the various iniquitjes and abominations of the age 
but also as an omen of some future destruction that might 
overwhelm the land — as in the case of the countries men- 
tioned in bil>lical historj', — unless speedy repentance and 



THE WONDERFUL DAI;K DAY. 



41 



reformation took place. The ir,%orant in- 
dulged in vague and wild conjectures as 
to the cause of the phenomenon ; and 
those profounder minds, even, that could 
" gauge the heavens and tell the stars," 
were about equally at loss for anj' rational 
explanation of the event. It is related 
that the Connecticut legislature was in 
session at this time, and that, so great was 
the darkness, the members became terri- 
fied, and thought that the day of judg- 
ment had come; a motion was conse- 
quently made to adjourn. At this, Mr. 
Davenport arose and said: '"Mr. Speaker, 
— It is either the day of judgment, cr it 
is not. If it is not, there is no need of 
adjourning. If it is, I desire to be f.iund 
doing my dutv. I move that candles be 
brought, and that we proceed to business."' 
The time of the commencement of this 
extraordinary darkness was between the 
liours of ten and eleven in the forenoon of 
Friday, of the date already named; and it 
continued until the middle of the follow- 
ing night, but with different appearances 
at different places. As to the manner of 
its approach, it seemed to appear first of 
all in the south-west. The wind came 
from that quarter, and the darkness ap- 
peared to come on with the clouds that 
came in that direction. The degree to 
which the darkness arose varied in differ- 
ent localities. In most parts, it became so 
dense, that people were unable to read 
common print distinctly, or accurately de- 
termine the time of day by their clocks or 
watches, or dine, or manage their domes- 
tic aifairs conveniently, without tlie light 
of candies. In some places, the degree of 
darkness was just about equal to prevent- 
ing persons seeing to read ordinary print 
in the open air, for several hours together. 
The extent of this darkness was also very 
remarkable. It was observed at the most 
easterly regions of New England ; west- 
ward, to the furthest parts of Connecticut, 
and at Albany; to the southward, it was 
observed all along the sea coasts ; and to 
the north, as far as the American settle- 
ments extended. It probably far exceeded 
these boundaries, but the exact limits were 



never positively known. With regard to 
its duration, it continued in the neiglibor- 
liood of Uoston fur at least fourteen or fif- 
teen liours ; but it was doubtless lunger or 
shorter in some other places. The appear- 
ance and effects were such as tended to 
make the prospect extremely dull, gloomy, 
and unnatural. Candles were lighted up 
in the houses; the birds, in the midst 
of their blithesome forenoon enjoyments, 
stopped suddenly, and, singing their even- 
ing songs, disappeared, and became si- 
lent; the fowls retired to their roosts; the 
cocks were crowing in their accustomed 
manner at tlie break of day; objects could 
not be distinguished at a comparatively 
slight distance; and cver3'thing bore the 
aspect and gloom of night, — to say noth- 
ing of the effect upon the minds of the 
people, which, indeed, was quite inde- 
scribable. 

The abo\'e general facts concerning this 
strange phenomenon were ascertained, 
after much painstaking inquiry, soon 
after its occurrence, by Prof. Williams, of 
Harvard College, who also collected to- 
gether some of the more jiarticular ob- 
servations made in different parts of the 
country, relative to the remarkable event. 
From these data it appears that, with re- 
gard to the state of the atmosphere pre- 
ceding tills uncommon darkness, it was 
noticed in many sections, for several days 
before, that the air seemed to be of a 
smoky and vaporous character. The sun 
and the moon exhibited an unusual led- 
ness in their color, and divested of their 
usual brightness and lucid aspect; and 
this obscuration increased as they ap- 
proached nearer to the horizon. This 
was ascertained to have been the case in 
almost all parts of the New England 
states, for four or five days preceding the 
nineteenth of ]\Iay. The winds had been 
variable, but chiefly from the south-west 
and north-east. The thermometer indi- 
cated from forty to fifty-five degrees. The 
barometer showed a somewhat higher range 
than usual. The weather had been fair 
and cool for the season. 

As to the state of the atmosphere when 



42 



THE WONDERFUL DAEK DAY. 



the darkness came on, it was observable 
that the weight or gravity of it was grad- 
ually decreasing, the greater part of the 
day. According to the observations made 
at Cambridge, Mass , the mercury in the 
barometer was found, at twelve o'clock, to 
stand at twenty-nine inches, seventy ; in 
half an hour after, the mercury had fallen 
the one-hundredth part of an inch ; at one 
o'clock, it was twenty-nine inches, sixt)-- 
seven ; at three o'clock, it was at twenty- 
nine inches, sixtj'-five ; at eight minutes 
past eight, it was at twenty-nine inclies, 
sixty-four. A similar course of barometri- 
cal observations made, at the same time, 
in another part of the state, showed as fol- 
lows : at six o'clock in the morning, the 
mercury in the barometer was found to be 
at twenty-nine inches, eighty-two ; as soon 
as the darkness began to appear uncom- 
mon, that is, at ten minutes past ten, the 
mercury was found at twenty-nine inches, 
sixty-eight ; at quarter before eleven — the 
time of the greatest degree of darkness in 
that part of the country — the mercury was 
at twenty-nine inches, sixty-seven, the 
darkness continuing in the same degree 
for an hour and a half ; at fifteen minutes 
past twelve, the mercury had fallen to 
twenty-nine inches, sixty-live, and, in a 
few minutes after this, the darkness began 
to abate ; the mercury remained in this 
state during the whole evening, without 
any sensible alteration. At half-past 
eight, it seemed to have fallen a little, but 
so small was the alteration, that it was at- 
tended with some uncertainty, nor did it 
appear to stand any lower three hours 
later. 

From these observations, it is certain 
that, on the day when the darkness took 
place, the weight or gravity of the atmos- 
phere was gradually decreasing through 
the whole day. Both of the barometers 
in use were instruments of superior work- 
manship, and consequently to be depended 
on as to the accuracy of their indications. 

The color of objects that day, is another 
point of interest. It is mentioned, in the 
record of observations made with reference 
to this feature of the phenomenon, that 



the compfcxion of the clouds was com- 
pounded of a faint red, yellow and brown, 
— that, during the darkness, objects which 
commonly appear green, were of tlie deep- 
est green, verging to blue, — and that those 
which appear white, were highly tinged 
with yellow. This was the character of 
the observations, as given by almost every 
one ^vho made any record of the day's ap- 
pearance. But Prof. Williams states that, 
to him, almost every object appeared tinged 
with j-ellow, rather tlian with any other 
color; and this, whether the thing wa? 
near, or remote from the ej'e. 

Another element of peculiarity, in this 
remarkable scene, was the nature and ap- 
pearance of the vapors that were then in 
the atmosphere. Early in the morning, 
the weather was cloudy ; the sun was but 
just visible through the clouds, and ap- 
peared of a deep red, as it had for several 
days before. In most places thunder was 
heard a number of times in the morning. 
The clouds soon began to rise from the 
south-west, with a gentle breeze, and there 
were several small showers before eight 
o'clock ; in some places there were showers 
at other hours, throughout the day. The 
water that fell was found to have an un- 
usual character, being thick, dark, and 
sooty. One observer, in the eastern part 
of Massachusetts, states, in this connec- 
tion, that the strange appearance and 
smell of the rain-water which people had 
saved in tubs, was the subject of universal 
and wondering remark. On examining 
the water, there was found .a light scum 
upon it, which, on being rubbed between 
the thumb and finger, seemed to resemble 
the black ashes of burnt leaves ; the water 
also gave the same strong, sooty smell, 
which characterized the air. A similar 
appearance, in this respect, manifested 
itself in other localities; it was especially 
exliibited on the Merrimac river, large 
quantities of black scum being seen float- 
ing upon tlie surface of that stream, dur- 
ing the day. In the niglit, the wind 
veered round to the north-east, and drove 
this substance towards the south shore ; 
when the tide fell, the matter lay for 



THE WONDERFUL DARK DAY. 



43 



many miles rJong the shore, the width of 
tiie deposit being some four or five inches. 
An examination of a considerable quantity 
of this substance, in several places, failed 
to show anything of a sulphurous nature, 
either in its taste, color, or smell. Prof. 
Williams states that, being apprehensive 
as to whether there was not some uncom- 
mon ingredient in the air that day, he put 
out several sheets of clean paper in the air 
and rain. When they had been out four or 
five hours, he dried them by the fire. They 
were much sullied, and became dark in 
their color, and felt as if they had been 
rubbed with oil or grease ; but, upon burn- 
ing them, there could not be detected any 
sulphurous or nitrous particles. 

The motion and situation of tlie cur- 
rents or bodies of vapor in the atmosjahere 
likewise exhibited some striking peculiar- 
ities. In most places, it was very evident 
that the vapors were descending from the 
higher parts of the atmosphere towards 
the surface of the earth. A gentleman 
who made some special observations bear- 
ing upon this point, mentions a very curi- 
ous circumstance, as to their ascent and 
situation, namely, that at about nine 
o'clock in the morning, after a shower, 
the vapors rose from the springs in the 
low lands, in great abundance. Notice 
was taken of one large column that as- 
cended, with great rapidity, to a consid- 
erable height above the highest hills, and 
soon spread into a largo cloud, then moved 
off a little to the westward. A second 
cloud was formed in the same manner, 
from the same springs, but did not ascend 
eo high as the first; and a third was 
formed from the same places, in less than 
a quarter of an hour after the second. 
About three-quarters of an hour after 
nine o'clock, these clouds exhibited a very 
striking appearance. The upper cloud 
wore a peculiar reddish hue ; the second 
showed in some places or parts a green, in 
others a blue, and in others an indigo 
color; while the surface of the third cloud 
was almost white. 

Of a somewhat singular nature, also, is 
the fact, as related by another, that, while 



tlie darkness continued, the clouds were in 
quick motion, interrupted, skirted one over 
another, so as to form — at least to the eye 
of the beholder — a considerable number of 
strata, the lower stratum being of an uni- 
form height as far as visible; but this height 
was conceived to be very slight, from the 
small extent of the horizon that could be 
seen, and from this circumstance observed 
in the evening. A liglited torch, held by 
a person passing along the street, occa- 
sioned a reflection of a faint red or copper- 
tinged light — similar to a faint aurora 
borealis, • — the apparent height at which 
the reflection was made, being some twenty 
to thirty feet. And it was generally re- 
marked, that the hills might be seen at a 
distance in some directions, while the in- 
termediate spaces were greatly obscured 
or darkened. 

It would thus appear, from the state- 
ments now cited, as if the vapors, in some 
places, were ascending ; in most, descend- 
ing; and, in all, very near to the surface 
of the earth. To this it may be added, 
that, during the darkness, objects seem- 
ingly cast a shade in every direction, and, 
in many instances, there were various 
appearances or corruscations in the atmos- 
phere, not unlike the aurora borealis, — 
though it is not stated that any uncom- 
mon exhibitions of tl^e electric fire were 
witnessed during the day. In some ac- 
counts, however, it is mentioned that a 
number of small birds were found suffo- 
cated by the vapor ; some were found dead, 
and some flew affrighted, or stupefied, into 
the houses. 

In New Haven, Conn., there was a 
shower of rain, with some lightning and 
thunder, about daybreak in the morning, 
the rain continuing, with intervals, until 
after sunrise. The morning was cloudy 
and darkish ; and the sun, rising towards 
the zenith, gave no increase of light, as 
usual, but, on the contrary, the darkness 
continued to increase until between eleven 
and twelve o'clock, at which time there 
was the greatest obscurity in that place. 
What little motion of the air there was 
just at this period, was nearly from the 



r 



44 



THE WONDERFUL DARK DAY. 



south ; though the atmosphere was as calm 
as the blandest summer morning. There 
was sometliing more of a luminous appear- 
ance in the horizon, than in the hemi- 
sphere in general; also, a most marked 
liveliness of tint to the grass and other 
green vegetation ; and a very noticeable 
yellowness in the atmosphere, which made 
clean silver nearly resemble the color of 
brass. At about twelve o'clock, noon, the 
singular obscuration ceased; the greatest 
darkness, at any particular time, was at 
least as dense as what is commonly called 
'candloligliting,' in the evening. In the 
town of Hartford, and the neighboring 
villages, the phenomenon was observed 
with all its distinctive peculiarities ; and, 
by some persons, the disc of the sun was 
seen, at the time of the greatest deficiency 
of light. 



such buildings. At twelve, the darkness 
was greatest, and a little rain fell; in the 
street, the aspect was liUe that at the be- 
ginning of evening, a? lights were seen 
burning in all the houses. The clouds 
were thinnest at the north ; at the north- 
east, the clouds were very thick, and so 
low that hills could not be seen at the dis- 
tance of half a mile ; south-westerlj', hills 
might be clearly seen at the distance of 
twenty miles, though the intermediate 
space was fo sliaded tliat it was impo.-si- 
blo to distinguish woodland from pasture. 
At half-pa t twelve, the cloud:, having 
been hitherto detached, began to concen- 
trate at such an height, tliat all the hills 
became visible, and the country around 
exhibited a mo t beautiful tinted verdure ; 
at one, the clouds became uniformly 
spread, and the darkness was not greater 




CHANGE OF SCENE AFTEK THE DARK DAY. 



In ]\Iiddlosex county, Mass , the peals 
of thunder were loud and frequent at six 
o'clock in the morning, attended with 
heavy rain ; at seven o'clock, the rain and 
thunder had ceased, but the sky contin- 
ued cloudy. Between nine and ten o'clock, 
the clouds were observed to thicken, and 
to receive continual accessions from the 
low lands. Before ten, the darkness had 
sensibly increased, till it became difficult 
to read an almanac in a room having two 
windows ; at eleven o'clock, candles were 
lighted, and at half-past eleven the dark- 
ness was so great in the meeting-house, 
where a court was then sitting, that it 
was difficult to distinguish countenances 
at the smallest distance, notwithstanding 
the large number of windows usual in 



than is usual on a cloudy day. The same 
weather continued through the whole 
afternoon, except that the sun was seen 
for a few minutes, in some places, about 
three o'clock. At eight in the evening, 
the darkness was so impenetrably thick, 
as to render traveling positively imprac- 
ticable ; and, although the moon rose 
nearly full about nine o'clock, yet it did 
not give light enough to enable a person 
to distinguish between the heavens and 
the earth. 

In the account of this phenomenon given 
by Dr. Tenney, of New Hampshire, an in- 
telligent observer and writer, are some 
interesting details, gathered by him while 
on a journey to Pennsylvania,, from the 
ea^t. He repeats and confirms the state- 



THE WONDERFUL DARK" DAY. 



45 



raent made by others, that, ijreviously to 
tlie coiumeucemeut of tiie darkness, tlie 
sky was overcast with the common kind 
of clouds from which there was, in some 
phices, a moderate fall of rain. Between 
these and thj eartli, there intervened an- 
other stratum, apparently of great thick- 
ness ; a? this stratum advanced, the dark- 
ness commenced, and increased with its 
progress till it came to its height, which 
did not take place till the hemisphere 
was a second time overspread — the uncom- 
mon thickness of this second stratum lin- 
ing probably occasioned by two strong cur- 
rents of wind from the southward and 
westward, condensing the vapors and 
drawing them to the north-east. 

The remit of Dr. Tenney's journey, — 
during which he made the best use of his 
opportunities for information, — was, that 
the darkness appeared to be most gross in 
Essex county, ^Massachusetts, the lower 
part of the state of New Hampshire, and 
in portions of what was then the province 
of Maine. In Rhode Island and Connect- 
icut it was not so great, and still less in 
New York; in New Jersey, tiio second 
stratum of clouds was observed, but it Avas 
not of any great thickness, nor was the 
darkness very uncommon ; in the lower 
parts of Pennsylvania, no extraordinary 
scene was noticed. 

Through the whole extent of country 
referred to, the lower cloud-stratum had 
an uncommon brassy hue, while the earth 
and trees were adorned with so enchant- 
ing a verdure as could not escapj notice, 
even amidst the unu.-ual atmosplicric 
gloom that accompanied it. The dark- 
ness of the following evening was proba- 
bly as deep and dense as ever had been ob- 
served since the Almighty fiat gave birth 
to light ; it wanted only palpability to ren- 
der it as extraordinary as that wliicli over- 
spread the land of Egypt, in the days of 
Moses. If every luminous body in the 
universe had been shrouded in impenetra- 
ble shades, or struck out of existence, it 
was tliought the darkness could not have 
been more complete. A sheet of white 
paper, held within a few inches of the 



eyes, was equally invisible with the black- 
est velvet. And, considering the small 
quantity of light that was transmitted 
by the clouds, during the day, it is not 
surprising that, at night, a sufficient quan- 
tity' of rays should not be able to penetrate 
tlie same strata, brouglvi back by tha shift- 
ing of the winds, to afford the most ob- 
scure prospect even of the best reflecting 
bodies. The denseness of tliis evening 
darkness was a fact universally observed 
and recorded. 

In view of all the information contained 
in the various accounts of tliis daj', it ap- 
pears very certain that the atmosphere 
was charged with an unprecedented quan- 
tity of vapor, — from what primary cause 
has never been satisfactorily determined; 
and as the weather had been clear, the air 
heavy, and the winds small and variable 
for many days, the vapors, instead of dis- 
persing, must have been constantly rising 
and collecting in the air, until the atmos- 
phere became highly charged with them. 

A large quantity of the vapors, thus 
collected in the atmosphere, on the day in 
question, was floating near the surface of 
the earth. Wheresoever the specific grav- 
ity of any vapor is less than the specific 
gravity of the air, such a vapor will, by 
the law of fluids, a-^cend in the air; where 
the specific gravity of a vapor, in the at- 
mosphere, is greater than tliat of the air, 
such a vapor will descend ; and where the 
specific gravity of the vapor and air are 
the same, the vapor will then be at rest, — ■ 
floating or swimming in the atmosphere, 
without ascending or descending. From 
the barometrical observations, it appears 
that the weight or gravity of the atmos- 
phere was gradually growing less, from 
the morning of the nineteenth of Jlay, 
until the evening; and hence the vapors, 
in most places, were descending from the 
higher parts of the atmosphere, towards 
the surface of the earth. According to 
one of tlie observations cited, the vapors 
wore noticed to ascend, until they rose to 
a height where the air was of the same 
specific gravit}' — a height not much above 
the adjacent hills, — and here they in- 



46 



THE WONDEEFUL DARK DAY. 



stantly spread, and floated in the atmos- 
pliere. From these data, the conclusion 
is drawn, that the place where the vapors 
were balanced must have been very near 
the surface of the earth. 

Reasoning from the premises thus set 
forth, Prof. Williams was of the opinion 
that such a large quantity of vapor, float- 
ing in the atmosphere, near the earth's 
surface, might be sufficient to produce all 
the phenomena that made the nineteenth 
of May, 1780, so memorable. Thus, the 
direction in whicli the darkness came on 
would be determined by the direction of 
the wind, and this was known to be from 
the south-west; the degree of the dark- 
ness would dejjend on the density, color, 
and situation of the clouds and vapor, and 
the manner in which they would transmit, 
reflect, refract, or absorb the i-ays of light; 
the extent of the darkness would be as 
great as the extent of the vapor ; and the 
duration of it would continue until the 
gravity of the air became so altered that 
the vapors would change their situation, 
by an ascent or descent; — all of which 
particulars, it is claimed, agree with the 
observations that have been mentioned. 
Nor does the effect of the vapors, in dark- 
ening terrestrial objects, when they lay 
near the surface of the earth, appear to 
have been greater than it was in darken- 
ing the sun and moon, when their situa- 
tion was higher in the atmosphere. 

It being thus evident that the atmos- 
phere was, from some peculiar cause (per- 
haps great fires in distant woods) charged, 
in a high degree, with vapors, and that 
these vapors were of different densities 
and occupied different heights, — the de- 
duction is, that by this means the rays of 
light falling on them must have suffered a 
variety of refractions and reflections, and 
thereby become weakened, absorbed, or so 
reflected, as not to fall upon objects on the 
earth in the usual manner ; and as the 
different vapors were adapted by their 
nature, situation, or density, to absorb or 
transmit the different kind of rays, so the 
color i of objects would appear to be af- 
fected by the mixture or prevalency of 



those rays which were transmitted through 
so uncommon a medium. This was the 
explanation suggested by Prof. Williams, 
though not to the exclusion of other the- 
ories. 

But there were not wanting those — and 
a large number they were too — who gave 
play, in their minds, to the most strange 
opinions concerning the cause of so mar- 
velous an appearance. It was imagined 
by some persons, that an eclipse of the 
sun, produced of course by an interposition 
of the moon, was the cause of the darkness 
— others attributed it to a transit of Venus 
or Mercury upon the disc of the sun — 
others imputed it to a blazing star, which 
they thought came between the earth and 
the sun. So whimsical, indeed, were some 
of the opinions which possessed men's 
minds at this time, that even so bare a 
vagary as that a great mountain obstructed 
the rays of the sun's light during that 
day, obtained advocates ! Whether they 
thought that a new mountain was created 
and placed between the earth and the sun, 
or that a mountain from this globe had 
taken flight and perched upon that great 
luminary, does not appear. 

That this darkness was not caused by 
an eclipse, is manifest by the various posi- 
tions of the planetary bodies at that time, 
for the moon was more than one hundred 
and fifty degrees from the sun all that 
day, and, according to the accurate calcu- 
lations made by the most celebrated as- 
tronomers, there could not, in the order of 
nature, be any transit of the planet Venus 
or Mercury upon the disc of the sun that 
jear ; nor could it be a blazing star — much 
less a mountain, — that darkened the at- 
mosphere, for this would still leave unex- 
plained the deep darkness of the following 
night. Nor would such excessive noc- 
turnal darkness follow an eclipse of the 
sun ; and as to the moon, she was at that 
time more than forty hours' motion past 
her opposition. 

One of the theories, looking to a solution 
of the mysterious occurrence, which found 
defenders, was as follows : The heat of the 
sun causes an ascent of numerous particles 



THE WONDERFUL DARK DAY. 



47 



whicli consist of different qualities, such as 
aqueous, sulphurous, bituminous, salinous, 
etc. ; hence the waters of the seas, rivers, 
and ponds; the fumes of burning volca- 
noes, caused by subterraneous veins of 
liquid fire; all the other kinds of smoke — 
fafc, combustibles, oily matter from various 
kinds of earth, the juice of trees, plants 
and herbs ; salinous and nitrous particles 
from salt, snowwater, and kindred sources; 
— these are exhaled into the regions of the 
air, where their positions are subject to 
various mutations or changes by reason of 
the motion and compression of the air, 
causing them to be sometimes rarefied and 
sometimes condensed. It was (according 
to this theory,) a vast collection of such 
particles that caused the day of darkness ; 
that is, the particles, after being exhaled, 
were driven together by certain winds 
from opposite points of the compass, and 
condensed to such a degree by the weight 
of the earth's atmosphere, that they ob- 
structed the appearance of the rays of the 
sun by day, and those of the moon by 
night. 

Having thus presented the facts and 
circumstances pertaining to this notable 
day in the history of the New England or 
northern states, it may not be amiss to 
add, that a similar day of mysterious dark- 
ness occurred on October 21, 1716 ; the 
day was so dark, that people were forced 
to light candles to dine by, — a darkness 
which could not proceed from any eclipse, 
a solar eclipse having taken place on the 
fourth of that month. There was also a 
remarkable darkness at Detroit and vicin- 
ity, October 19, 1762, being almost total for 
the greater part of the day. It was dark 
at day-break, and this continued until nine 
o'clock, when it cleared up a little, and, for 
the space of about a quarter of an hour, 
the body of the sun was visible, it appear- 
ing as red as blood, and more than three 



times as large as usual. The air, all this 
time, was of a dingy yellowish color. At 
half-past one o'clock, it was so dark as to 
necessitate the lighting of candles, in 
order to attend to domestic duties. At 
about three in the afternoon, the darkness 
became more dense, increasing in intensity 
until half-past three, when the wind 
breezed up from the southwest and brought 
on a slight fall of rain, accompanied with 
a profuse quantity of fine black particles, 
in appearance much like sulphur, both in 
smell and quality. A sheet of clean paper, 
held out in this rain, was rendered quite 
black wherever the drops fell upon it ; but, 
when held near the fire, it turned to a yel- 
low color, and, when burned, it fizzed on 
the paper, like wet powder. So black did 
these powdery particles turn everything 
upon which they fell, that even the river 
was covered with a black froth, which, 
when skimmed off the surface, resembled 
the lather of soap, with this difference, that 
it was more greasy, and its color as black 
as ink. At seven, in the evening, the air 
was more clear. This phenomenon was 
observed throughout a vast region of coun- 
try ; and, though various conjectures were 
indulged in, as to the cause of so extraor- 
dinary an occurrence, the same degree of 
mystery attaches to it as to that of 1780, — 
confounding the wisdom even of the most 
learned philosophers and men of science. 

It may easily be imagined, that, as the 
deep and mysterious darkness which cov- 
ered the land on the memorable nineteenth 
of May filled all hearts with wonder — and 
multitudes with fear, — so, the return, at 
last, of that brightness and beauty charac- 
teristic of the month and of the season, 
brought gladness again to the faces of the 
young, and composure to the hearts of the 
aged ; for never before did nature appear 
clothed in so charming an attire of sun- 
shine, sky and verdure. 



IV. 
TEEASON OF MAJOR-GENERAL BENEDICT ARNOLD.— 1780. 



Darkest Page in American Revolutionarj- History. — Plot to Deliver West Point, the Gibraltar of Amer- 
ica, Over to the British. — Movements of tlie Guilty Parties. — Discovery and Frustration of the Crime. 
— Major Andre, the British Spy, is Captured, and Swings from a Gibbet — Escape of Arnold to the 
Enemy. — Is Spurned and Isolated in England, — Arnold's Unquestioned Bravery. — Commended by 
General Washington. — Infamous Personal Transactions — Reprimanded by his Chief — Determines on 
Revenge. — Correspondence with the Foe — Ingratiates Washington's Favor Again. — Obtains Com- 
mand of West Point — Midnight Conference with Andre — Andre Seized wliile Returning — Astound- 
ing Evidence Against Him. — Attempts to Bribe His Captors. — Carried to American Head-Quarters — 
Arnold Apprised of the Event. — A Hurried Farewell to His Wife, — Quick Pursuit of the Traitor. — 
He Reaches a British Man-of-War. — Washington's Exclamation at the News — His Call on Mr? Ar» 
nold. — Andre's Trial and Conviction. — Arnold's Reward for His Crime. — His Unlamented Death. 



"Providence, which has so often Hnd eo rcmarltDbly interposed in our favor, never manifested itself more conspicuously than in the timely 
discovery ot Arnold's horrid intentioa to surrender the post and garrison of West Point to the enemy." — Wasuiaotom. 




PRICE OF AUNO-D'S TRKASOS. 



I" AEK and tragical, indeed, is that page in the history of 
tlie American revol"tionary war, which records Benedict 
Arnold's atrocious scheme of treason against his native 
land, in its struggle against British oppression. Equally 
strange and startling is the storj' which narrates the dis- 
covery and frustration of so perfidious a plot. Around 
the memory of the unfortunate Andre, pity still wreathes 
her romantic chaplet ; while the name of Arnold will, 
to the end of time, transfix every patriotic mind, as that 
of the blackest among modern criminals. The treacher- 
ous deed was committed, too, in a year of deep depression on the part of the Americans. 
Of Arnold, personally and professionally, it may be remarked, that he was born in 
Norwich, Connecticut, in 1740, and began his business career at an early age, as a horse- 
dealer, and not over-scrupulous. He was also for a time a druggist and bookseller in 
New Haven. At the beginning of the war of the Revolution he placed himself at the 
head of a volunteer company, and soon distinguished himself ; was associated also with 
General Montgomery in the expedition against Quebec. In this latter most disastrous 
affair, undertaken in severe weather, his illustrious colleague lost his life, and Arnold, 
who was severely wounded in the leg, displayed the highest abilities as a commander 
and the greatest gallantry as a soldier, eliciting Washington's warmest esteem and ad- 
miration. But, licentious and rapacious as he was brave and intelligent, he plundered 
Montreal in his retreat, and by his misconduct exa.sperated the minds of the Canadians, 
who previously were not hostile to the Eevolution. After exhibiting great courage 
and skill on Lake Champlain, at Fort Schuyler, and the battle of Stillwater, his leg 
was shattered by a ball on the seventh of October, 1777, in a daring assault on 



TREASON OF MAJOR-GENERAL BENEDICT ARNOLD. 



40 



the English lines, which he penetrated, and 
but for his wound would have carried. 
Being thus unfitted for active service, he 
was appointed commander of the garrison 
at Philadelphia, but his dissipation, extor- 
tion, and peculation, at last subjected him 
to a trial by court martial, and to a repri- 
mand from Washington, at the beginning 
of 1779. This sentence was approved by 
Congress, and carried into execution by 
General Washington. Embarrassed in his 
circumstances, disappointed in his e.xpec- 
tations, and exasperated by disgrace, he 
formed the design of retrieving his misfor- 
tunes and satisfying his revenge, by be- 
traying his country. It was in this wise : 

While the British army was in Phila- 
delphia, in the spring of 1778, a grand 
parting entertainment was given by the 
royalists to Sir William Howe, the British 
commander-in-chief. Major Andre, made 
Adjutant-General of the army by Howe's 
successor, was one of the chief managers 
of the affair. IMiss Shippen, a Philadel- 
phia belle (and who subsequently became 
Mrs. Arnold), figured conspicuously among 
the actors of the entertainment, and she 
and Andre kept up a correspondence after- 
ward. Tiirough this channel Arnold saw, 
after his marriage with Miss Shippen, an 
opportunity for communicating with Sir 
Henry Clinton, the British commander at 
New York. In other words, he deter- 
mined to betray his country, — being, in 
this respect, an almost solitary instance. 
Dr. Benjamin Church, of Massachusetts, 
surgeon-general, being the other principal 
offender. 

Under fictitious names, and in the dis- 
guise of mercantile business, Arnold was 
even now in treacherous correspondence 
with Sir Henry Clinton, through Major 
Andre. To him the British general com- 
mitted the maturing of Arnold's treason, 
and, to facilitate measures for its execu- 
tion, the sloop of war Vulture moved up 
the North river, and took a station con- 
venient for the purpose, but not so near as 
to excite suspicion. An intervievr was 
agreed on, and in the night of September 
twenty-first, 1780, he was taken in a boat, 



which was dispatched for the purpose, and 
carried to the beach, without the posts of 
both armies, under a pass for John Ander- 
son. He met General Arnold at the house 
of a Mr. Smith. 

Yielding with reluctance to the urgent 
representations of Arnold, Andre laid aside 
his regimentals, which he had hitherto 
worn under a surtout, putting on a suit of 
ordinary clothes instead ; and now, receiv- 
ing a pass from the American general, 
authorizing him, under the feigned name 
of John Anderson, to "proceed on the 
public service to the White Plains, or 
lower if he thought proper," he set out on 
liis return in the evening of the twenty- 
second, accompanied by Joshua Smith, and 
passed the night at Crompond. The next 
morning he crossed the Hudson to King's 
Perry on the east side. A little bej'ond 
the Croton, Smith deeming him safe, bade 
him adieu. Alone, and without having 
excited the least suspicion, Andre passed 
the American guards, and was silently 
congratulating himself that he had passed 
all danger, when, coming to a place whore 
a small stream crossed the road and ran 
into a woody dell, a man stepped out from 
the trees, leveled a musket, and brought 
him to a stand, while two other men, sim- 
ilarly armed, showed themselves prepared 
to second their comrades. The man who 
at first stepped out wore a refugee uniform. 
At sight of it, Andre's heart leapt, and he 
felt himself secure. Losing all caution, 
he exclaimed eagerly : 

"Gentlemen, where do you belong? I 
hope to our party ! " 

" What party?" was th«ir immediate 
inquiry in response ; the trio consisting of 
scouting militiamen, named Paulding, 
Williams, and Van Wart. 

"The party below," — meaning New 
York, was the answer. 

" We do," was the shrewd reply of the 
three, as they now seized the bridle of the 
unfortunate man's horse, and challenged 
his business in that place. 

Seeing, beyond all doubt, the hands he 
had fallen into, Andre quickly shifted his 
tactics by jocosely remarking that what he 



50 



TREASON OF MAJOR-GENERAL BENEDICT ARNOLD. 



had first represented himself to be was 
merely by way of badinage, and that he 
was in reality a Continental officer, going 
down to Dobbs Ferry to get information 
from below ; so saying, he drew forth and 
showed them the pass from General Arnold. 
This in the first place would have sufficed, 
but his strange conduct and imprudent 
speech had so thoroughly betrayed him, 
that the three militiamen insisted on 
searching his person. They therefore 
obliged him to take off his coat and vest, 
and found on him eighty dollars in Conti- 
nental money, but nothing to warrant sus- 
picion of anything sinister, and were about 
to let him proceed, when one of them — 



marks on the works ; also other important 
documents. 

"While dressing again, Andre endeavored 
to ransom himself from his captors. He 
would give any sum of money, if they 
would let him go; would give his horse, 
saddle, bridle, gold watch, and one hundred 
guineas, and would send them to any place 
that might be fixed upon. 

Williams asked, ironically, whether he 
would not give more than all that. 

Andre replied, that he would give any 
reward they might name either in goods 
or money, and would remain with two of 
their party while one went to New York 
to get it. 



^■r«fSx% 




CAPTURB OF ANDRE. 



Paulding, a stout-hearted youngster — ex- 
claimed: 

"Boys, I am not satisfied — his boots 
must come off." 

At this Andre changed color. His 
boots, he said, came off with difficulty, and 
he begged he might not be subjected to 
the inconvenience and delay. His remon- 
strances were in vain. He was compelled 
to sit down ; his boots were drawn off and 
the concealed papers discovered. Hastily 
scanning them, Paulding exclaimed — 

" Ml/ God / He is a spy ! " 

The papers, which were in the hand- 
writing of Arnold, contained exact returns 
of the state of the forces, ordnance, and 
defenses of West Point, with critical re- 



Here Paulding broke in and declared 
with an oath, that if he would give ten 
thousand guineas he should not stir one 
step. 

On the morning of the twenty-eighth of 
September, Andre, in charge of Major 
Tallmadge, was conveyed in a barge to 
King's Ferry. Being both young, of equal 
rank, and prepossessing manners, a frank 
and cordial intercourse grew up between 
them. By a cartel, mutually agreed upon, 
each miglit put to the other any question 
not involving a third person. They were 
passing below the rocky heights of West 
Point and in full view of the frowning 
fortress, when Tallmadge asked Andre 
whether he would have taken an active 



TREASON OF MAJOR-GENERAL BENEDICT ARNOLD. 



51 



part in the attack on it, should Arnold's 
plan have succeeded. 

Andre promptly answered this question 
in the affirmative; pointed out a table of 
land on the west shore, where he would 
have landed a select corps, described the 
route he would have taken up the moun- 
tain to a height in the rear of Fort Put- 
nam, overlooking the whole parade of 
West Point — " and this he did," writes 
Tallmadge, " with much greater exactness 
than I could have done. This eminence 
he would have reached without difficulty, 
as Arnold would have disposed of the gar- 
rison in such manner as to be capable of 
little or no opposition — and then the key 



public ear, and all hearts turned for relief 
to the wisdom of Washington. Unfortu- 
nately for the ends of justice, Andre asked 
permission of Colonel Jameson, as soon as 
he was taken to the latter's custody, to 
write to General Arnold, to inform him 
that ' Anderson ' was detained. Not 
knowing the rank of his prisoner nor the 
magnitude of the plot, the letter was al- 
lowed by Jameson to be sent, and Arnold, 
being thus apprised, escaped. Colonel 
Jameson also forwarded to General Wash- 
ington the papers found on the prisoner, 
and a statement of the manner in which 
he was taken. 

The papers sent to Washington missed 





of the country would have been in his 
hands, and he would have had the glory 
of the splendid achievement." Tallmadge 
ventured to ask Andre what was to have 
been his reward had he succeeded. To 
this the reply was : " Military glory was 
all I sought. The thanks of my general 
and the approbation of my king would 
have been a rich reward for such an under- 
taking." Tallmadge also adds : "I think 
he further remarked, that, if he had suc- 
ceeded, he was to have been promoted to 
the rank of a brigadier-general." 

The news of Andre's arrest and Arnold's 
treason fell like a thunderbolt upon the 



him, as he did not return by the road he 
went, but took the northern route to Fish- 
kill, where, September twenty-fourth, he 
arrived late in the afternoon, the very day 
after Andre's capture, — of which event 
and of Arnold's treason he was wholly 
unconscious. Stopping at Fishkill only a 
short time, he pushed on for the quarters 
of his brave general, Arnold, some eighteen 
miles distant. He had gone, however, but 
a mile or two, before he met the French 
minister. Chevalier Luzerne, on his way to 
Newport, to visit Eochambeau, the French 
naval commander. The latter prevailed 
on him to return to Fishkill for the night, 



52 



TREASON OF MAJOR-GENERAL BENEDICT ARNOLD. 



as he had matters of importance to com- 
municate. 

The ne.xt morning, Washington was 
early in the saddle, having sent word be- 
forehand to Arnold that he would break- 
fast with him. It was a bright autumnal 
morning, and the whole party in high 
spirits pushed rapidly forward through the 
gorges of the Highlands. As they came 
opposite West Point, Washington, instead 
of continuing on to Arnold's quarters, 
which were on the same side, turned his 
horse down a narrow road toward the 
river. Lafaj-ette observing this, ex- 
claimed — 

" General, you are going in the wrong 
direction ; you know Mrs. Arnold is wait- 
ing breakfast for us, and that road will 
take us out of the way." 



Jameson, commanding at North Castle, 
announcing the capture of Andre, and who 
had been brought in to Jameson's post, by 
three militiamen, Paulding, Williams, and 
Van Wart, his captors, whom the gallant 
but unfortunate man vainly endeavored to 
bribe, in order to his release. They knew 
him to be a spy, but were ignorant of his 
military rank. 

Merely remarking that his presence at 
West Point was necessary, Arnold re- 
quested the aids to say to Washington on 
his arrival that he was unexpectedlj^ called 
over the river, and would be back soon. 
Repairing to his wife's chamber, he sent 
for her at the breakfast table, and told her 
that he must instantly leave her and his 
country forever, for death was his certain 
doom if he did not reach the enemy before 




WEST POINT IN 1780. 



" Ah ! " replied Washington, laughingly, 
"I know you young men are all in love 
with Mrs. Arnold, and wish to get where 
she is as soon as possible. You may go 
and take breakfast with her, and tell her 
not to wait for me. I must ride down and 
examine the redoubts on this side of the 
river, and will be there in a short time." 

The officers preferring not to proceed 
without him, two aids were dispatched to 
tell Arnold not to wait breakfast. The 
latter, therefore, with his family and the 
two aids sat down to the table. While 
they were conversing on indifferent topics, 
a messenger entered and handed a letter 
to Arnold, who opened and read it in pres- 
ence of the company, without, of course, di- 
vulging its contents. It was from Colonel 



he was detected. Paralyzed by the sud- 
den blow, she fell senseless at his feet. 
Not daring to call for help, Arnold left her 
in that state, and rapidly descending to the 
door, mounted one of the horses belonging 
to Washington's aids, and taking a 
by-way pushed for the river, where his 
barge was moored. Jumping in, he or- 
dered his six oarsmen to pull for Teller's 
Point. Stimulating them to greater 
efforts by the promise of two gallons of 
rum, he swept rapidly past Verplanck's 
Point, and as he approached the British 
ship Vulture, waved a white handkerchief, 
and was soon on board. In the meantime, 
Washington, having finished his survey, 
rode on to Arnold's house. Taking a 
hasty breakfast, and being informed that 



TEEASON OF MAJOR-GENERAL BENEDICT ARNOLD. 



53 



Mrs. Arnold was in her room, unwell, he 
said lie would not wait for Arnold to 
return, but cross over to West Point and 
meet him there. As the boat swept over 
the water, he remarked — 

"Well, gentlemen, I am glad on the 
whole that General Arnold has gone before 
us, for we shall now have a salute, and the 
roaring of the cannon will have a fine 
effect among these mountains." 

At this moment an officer was seen 
coming down the rocky hill-side, to 
meet the barge. It was Colonel 
Lamb, who looked confounded on 
seeing the commander-in-chief. He 
commenced an apology, declaring 
that he was wholly ignorant of his 
excellency's intention to visit West 
Point. 

" How is this, sir," broke in Wash- 
ington, "is not General Arnold here?" 

"No, sir," replied the colonel, "he has 
not been here these two days, nor have I 
heard from him in that time." 

"This is extraordinary," replied Wash- 
ington ; " he left word that he had crossed 
the river. However, our visit must not 
be in vain. Since we have come, we must 
look around and see iu what state things 
are with you." 

And now it was that Hamilton broke 
the astounding news to his chief. The 
latter, stunned and bewildered, ordered 
Hamilton to mount a horse and ride as for 
life to Verplanck's Point, and stop Arnold, 
if possible ; he called in Knox and Lafay- 
ette, and told them what had occurred, 
merely remarking at the close, " Whom 
can ive trust now?" His countenance 
was calm as ever, and being informed that 
Arnold's wife was in a state bordering on 
insanity, he went up to her room to soothe 
her. In her frenzy she upbraided him 
with being in a plot to murder her child. 
One moment she raved, another she melted 
into tears. Sometimes she pressed her 
infant to her bosom and lamented its fate, 
occasioned by the imprudence of its father, 
in a manner that would have pierced in- 
sensibility itself. It was four o'clock in 
the afternoon when these disclosures of 



Arnold's treason and Andre's capture were 
made to Washington, and, an hour later, 
dinner being announced, he said — 

"Come, gentlemen, since Mrs. Arnold 
is unwell and the general is absent, let us 
sit down without ceremony." 

No one at the table but Knox and La- 
fayette knew what had transpired, nor 
did Washington exhibit any change or 
demeanor, except that he was more than 




;!:ni:hai, arn<h,i>' 



HEAD-QUARTERS. 



usually stern in his voice and manner. 
But his mind, oppressed with nameless 
fears, wandered far away from that dinner 
table, and no sooner was the quiet repast 
over than he addressed himself to the task 
before him. He wrote rapidly, and cour- 
iers were soon seen galloping in every di- 
rection. He announced the treason to 
Colonel Wade, commanding at West Point, 
in the absence of Colonel Lamb, in the 
single sentence, " General Ai-nold is gone 
to the enemy." Having done all he could 
to arrest the tremendous evils that threat- 
ened to overwhelm him, Washington re- 
tired late at night to his bed, fearful that 
the sound of the enemy's cannon, under 
the auspices of Arnold's treacherous 
schemes, would awake him before day- 
light. It happily did not prove so. 

A court-martial, having condemned 
Andre as a spy. Sir Henry Clinton, the 
British general, put forth every effort to 
avert the drendful fate of his officer. He 
sent three commissioners to reason and re- 
monstrate with the officers of the court. 
He appealed to Washington, while Arnold 
wrrrte him a threatening letter, declaring 
if Andre was hung he would revenge his 
death on every American prisoner that fell 
into his hands. Washington deigned no 
reply to the letter, but tenderly forwarded 



64 



TREASON OF MAJOR-GENERAL BENEDICT ARNOLD. 



Mrs. Arnold and her baggage over to the 
British side. 

Washington, though his heart was filled 
with the keenest sorrow for the fate of one 
so universal]}' beloved, and possessed of 
such noble qualities of heart and mind, 
refused to arrest the course of justice. As 
in all cases where great trouble came upon 
him. so in this, he said but little, but 



sternly and silently wrestled with it alone. 
Arnold was made brigadier-general in the 
British service, and put on an official level 
with honorable men, who scorned, how- 
ever, to associate with him. What goldin 
reward he was to have received had he 
succeeded in delivering West Point to the 
enemy, is not known j £30,000, most prob- 
ably. 



V. 

CORNWALLIS SURRENDERS HIS SPLENDID ARMY TO 
GENERAL WASHINGTON.— 1781. 



Final Catastrophe to British Arms in America. — Consternation and Despair in the Cabinet of King 
George — Tlieir Vaunted Wager of Battle Returns to Them with the Loss of their Fairest Possessiion. 
— Wasliington's Countrymen Everywhere Hail and Extol Him as their Deliverer. — Last Act in the 
Military Drama. — Cornwaliis Halts at Yorktown. — Makes it His Defensive Post. — Decoy Letter 
Sent by Washington. — The British Strongly Fortified. — American and French Forces United. — Their 
Advance on the Enemy. — Furious Bombardment. — Redoubts Stormed by Lafayette. — Both Sides 
Confident of Triumph. — British Efforts to Retreat. — Cornwaliis Prefers Death to Defeat. — Reckless 
Bravery of Washington. — Ardor and Exultation of His Troops. — Cornwaliis Fails of Re-enforcements. 
— He Asks a Cessation of Hostilities. — Forced to Yield the Struggle. — Universal Rejoicing of Amer- 
icans. — Mortification of the English. — Eloquence of Burke, Fox, and Pitt. — They Demand that the 
War Cease. — The Voice of Parliament. — Commemorative Action by Congress. 



"Oh.GodI It u all over—it ieaUoverl"— LOED Nobtu, rRiuE Minister or Ekolaicd, on Uearinq or CoRNWALLis'g Surbbnder. 



T the liead of a powerful army, -with 
which he had just established himself 
in Virginia, Lord Cornwaliis vaunt- 
ingly wrote to General Clinton, his 
superior, as follows : — 

" I have ventured, these last two 
days, to look General Washington's 
whole force in tlie face, in the posi- 
tion on the outside of my works, and 
have the pleasure to assure your Ex- 
cellency that there is but one wish 
throughout the army, which is, that 
the enemy would advance." 

Scarcely did Cornwaliis h.ave 
time to awake from his day-dream 
of security, when a courier was 
thundering at the doors of the 
Continental Congress, with the 
following dispatch from General 
Washington : " I have the honor to infortn congress that a reduction of the British army, 
tinder tlie command of Lord Cornwaliis, is most happily effected. The unremitted ardor, 
which actuated every officer and soldier in the combined army on this occasion, has 
principally led to this important event, at an earlier period than nij' most sanguine 
hopes had induced me to expect. The singular spirit of emulation, which animated the 
whole army from the first commencement of our operations, has filled my mind with the 




THE HOnSE WHERE COKSWALLIS SURRENDERED. 



56 



COENWALLIS' SUKEENDEK. 



higbest pleasure and satisfaction, and had 
given me the happiest presages of success." 

A glorious event, one eliciting the 
most unbounded demonstrations of joy 
throughout the United States, and which 
completely destroyed British military 
power at the s;outh, thus setting the seal of 
American success ujjon the contest with 
the mother country, — was the capture, as 
announced in the above dispatch, of Lord 
Cornwall is and his splendid army, at York- 
town, Virginia, in October, 1781, by the 
combined American and French forces 
under General Washington and Counts de 
Eochambeau and Grasse. 

Ta the summer of 1781, Cornwallis had 
taken possession of several j'laces in the 
south, and, in the latter part of July, de- 
sirous of establishing himself firmly in 
Virginia, he accordingly selected York- 
town as a suitable defensive post and capa- 
ble of protecting ships of the line. Little 
did he think, as he began leisurely to for- 
tify the place, (hat it was a net which 
would entangle him in crushed hopes and 
ruined fortunes. Yorktown is situated at 
the narrowest part of the peninsula formed 
by the York and James rivers, where the 
distance across is but eight miles. By 
placing his troops, therefore, around the 
village, and drawing about them a range 
of outer redoubts and field works calcu- 
lated to command this peninsula, Cornwal- 
lis had, as he thought, established himself 
well. 

Lafayette, with an inferior number of 
troops, was at this time at Williamsburg, 
but was unable to make successful engage- 
ments with the superior force of the Brit- 
ish. Seeing, at once, the importance of 
putting some check upon the progress of 
Cornwallis at the south, Washington de- 
termined to unite the American and French 
forces, then in the neighborhood of New 
York, and join Lafayette at Williamsburg. 
This junction was effected on the four- 
teenth of September, Washington being at 
the head of the American troops, and the 
Count de Eochambeau at the head of the 
French forces. At the same time the 
Count de Grasse, with his fleet, entered 



the Chesapeake, after a slight engagement 
with Admiral Graves off the capes, and 
was joined by the squadron of tlie Count 
de Barras from Newport. Three thou- 
sand men, under the Marquis St. Simon, 
were also added to the troops under La- 
fayette's command; and these combined 
forces then moved toward Yorktown and 
Gloucester, where Corwallis was sta- 
tioned. 

The British general had been expect)ng 
aid from Sir Henry Clinton at the north, 
but so adroitly had Washington withdrawn 
his troops, that Sir Henry scarcely sus- 
pected his design, till it was too late to 
frustrate it. On the thirteenth of Septem- 
ber, ths allied army occujiied the outer 
lines of Cornwallis, which that general 
had abandoned without a struggle. York- 
town was in a short time completely 
invested; the American army occupying 
the right, and the French the left, forming 
a semi-circle with each wing resting upon 
the river. On tlic night of the sixth of 
October the besieging a-my broke ground 
within six hundred yards of the British 
lines; and the first parallel was completed 
with little loss. On the ninth and tenth, 
guns were mounted on the works, and the 
batteries began to play, with visible effect, 
on the lines of the enemy. ]\Lany of their 
guns were soon silenced, and their works 
damaged. By the eleventh, the enemy 
scarcely returned a shot. The shells and 
red-hot balls of the besiegers reached the 
shipping in the harbor, and set the Charon 
frigate of forty-four guns, and several 
large transports on fire, which were en- 
tirely consumed. On the night of the 
eleventh, the second parallel was begun 
within three hundred yards of the British 
lines. The working parties were not dis- 
covered until day-light, when the trenches 
were in a situation to cover the men. 

But there were two redoubts in particu- 
lar, in front of the British lines and which 
flanked the second parallel of the Ameri- 
cans, that gave great annoyance to the 
latter, and it was deemed necessary to 
carry them by storm. To jirevent national 
jealousy, however, and to keep alive the 



CORNWALLIS' SURRENDER. 



57 



spirit of emulation which animated the co- 
operating armies, the attack of one was 
assigned to the American troops, and that 
of the otliev to tlie French. Lafayette 
commanded the American detachment and 
the Baron de Viominet the French. 
Colonel Hamilton, who through this cam- 
paign commanded a battalion of light in- 
fantry, led the advanced corps of the 
Americans to the assault, while Colonel 
Laurens turned the redoubt and attacked 



in his confidence of triumph, had so recently 
written to his superior. Sir Henry Clinton. 
Having failed in his sortie, and knowing 
that his position had become untenable, 
the British general took the desperate res- 
olution of crossing over to Gloucester 
Point in the night, and cutting his way 
through the blockading force there — tben, 
mounting his men on whatever horses he 
could seize, make a rapid march northward 
and join Sir Henry Clinton ! By this 




COHNWALLIS'S 

in the rear, to prevent the retreat of the 
garrison. Without giving time for the 
abattis to be removed, and without firing 
a gun, the Americans gallantly assaulted, 
and instantly carried the works, with a 
small loss of men on either side. The re- 
doubt attacked by the French being more 
strongly garrisoned made greater resist- 
ance, and was overcome with a much heav- 
ier loss. The success of these movements 
was a stunning blow to Cornwallis, who. 



SUBUBKUKK. 



movement he would abandon his sick and 
baggage ; but he would save himself the 
disgrace of a surrender. Boats were se- 
cretly procured, and the first embarkation 
reached the point safely and unperceived; 
but, at this juncture, a violent storm arose, 
which drove the boats down the river. 
The tempest continuing until day-light, 
the enterprise was necessarily given up, 
and the troops that had passed over gladly 
re-crossed to the southern field. 



58 



CORNWALLIS" SURRENDER. 



In the mortification and anguish of his 
soul, Cornwallis shed tears, and expressed 
his preference for death rather than the 
ignominy of a surrender. But there was 
no resource — the handwriting on the wall 
was against him — the fate of war must be 
accepted. The siege had continued close 
for more than two weeks, and, notwith- 
standing the losses in killed, wounded, and 
missing, that had been sustained, the Brit- 
ish army showed a handsome force of be- 
tween seven and eight thousand trained 
fighting men, of unquestioned bravery, but 
who were soon to capitulate to the besieg- 
ing forces, numbering, in all, some sixteen 
thousand men, less disciplined, perhaps, 
but determined and indomitable. 

Of Washington, the central character 
and actor in this great drama, every 
American heart engrossingly thinks. 
Knowing that Sir Henry Clinton had 
■written to Cornwallis, bidding him to 
strengthen his position at Yorktown, and 
promising him the immediate aid of both 
land and naval force.s, Washington h.id, 
seasonably and with shrewd forecast, writ- 
ten a letter to Lafayette, then in Virginia, 
which he caused to be intercepted. In this 
letter he remarked that he was pleased 
with the probability that Earl Cornwallis 
would fortifjf either Portsmouth or Old 
Point Comfort, for, were he to fix upon 
Yorktown, from its great capabilities of 
defense, he might remain there snugly and 
unharmed, until a superior British fleet 
would relieve him with strong re-enforce- 
ments, or embark him altogether. 

This decoy letter quieted the apprehen- 
sions of the British commander-in-chief as 
to the danger of Cornwallis, and produced 
those delays in the operations of Sir Henry, 
which, as will have been seen, tended so 
materially to the success of the allies and 
the surrender of Yorktown. Thus it was 
that Washington by liis pen, laid the 
train of success so well. Nor less so with 
his sword. In the simultaneous attack 
upon the redoubts, made by the combined 
American and French army, Washington 
was an intensely-excited spectator. He 
had dismounted from his horse — the mag- 



nificent chaiger, named Nelson, — and put 
him in the care of a servant, while the 
general himself took his stand in the grand 
battery with his two chief generals, Lin- 
coln and Knox, and their aids, and here 
lie exposed himself to everj' danger. 

When all was over, at this critical junc- 
ture, — the redoubts being taken, and 
Washington's intense anxiety so happily 
relieved, — the general drew a long breath, 
and looking at Knox with an expression 
of extreme satisfaction, remarked, brieflj', 
" The work is done, and tvell done ! '' 
Motioning to his faithful servant, who was 
quickly in his presence, he said, "William, 
bring me my horse," — mounting which, the 
chieftain proceeded to make sure that the 
success which had attended the first par- 
allel was followed up energetically until 
no loop-hole was left, through which Corn- 
wallis might escape. No such loop-hole 
was afforded, and Cornwallis's doom was 
sealed. 

It was a proud day for the war-worn 
troops of America to see so fine an army 
not only within their grasp, but, to all in- 
tents and purposes, completely at their 
disposal, — -waiting only those last formali- 
ties which give solemn dignity to the de- 
crees already made by the sword, — and 
they saw, in the coming event, the final 
catastrophe of British rule in America, — 
the close of the Revolutionary drama, — 
the establishment of a free and independ- 
ent republic. As alreadj' remarked, Corn- 
wallis had hoped for succor to the last, but 
the slaughter of his men became too seri- 
ous to be any longer endured, and finally 
the loud beat of the chamade was heard in 
the intervals of the explosions of cannon, 
and the firing ceased. Cornwallis then 
sent a flag of truce requesting a cessation 
of hostilities for twenty-four hours, to ar- 
range the terms of capitulation. To this 
Washington would not consent, fearing 
that the arrival of the English fleet in the 
meantime might alter the aspect of affairs, 
and allowed him but two hours in which 
to transmit his proposals. The full sur- 
render took place the next day, October 19, 
1781, the articles of capitulation being 



CORNWALLIS' SURRENDER. 



59 



signed by Cornwallis at the house of a Mr. 
Moore. 

At about 12 o'clock of that day, the 
combined continental army was drawn up 
ia two lines more than a mile in length, 
the Americans on the right side of the 
road, and their French allies on the left. 
Washington, mounted on a noble steed, 
and attended by his staff, was in front of 
the former; the Count de Rochambeau 
and his suite, of the latter. The French 
troops, in complete uniform, and well 
equipped, made a brilliant appearance, and 
had marched to the ground with a band of 
music playing, which was a novelty in the 
American service. The American troops, 
but part iu uniform, and all in garments 
much the worse for wear, j'et had a spirited 
soldier-like air, and were not the worse in 
the eyes of their countrymen for bearing 
the marks of hard service and great priva- 
tions. The concourse of spectators drawn 
from all the neighboring country to witness 
a scene so thrilling and momentous, was 
almost equal in number to the military, 
but silence and order prevailed unbroken. 

The enthusiasm throughout the country, 
on the surrender of Cornwallis, was un- 
bounded. " Cornivallis is taken/" was 
the message which sped itself with the 
wings of the wind to every city, town and 
village, and was shouted by every mouth. 
But the mortification of Cornwallis was 
intense, and the British cabinet, on hear- 
ing the news, turned pale with despair. 
Lords Germain, Walsingham, and Stor- 
mount, proceeded to Lord North's house, 
and there, at midnight, announced to him 
the portentous dispatcli. The haughty 
premier was astounded and humbled. In 
the words of Lord Germain, in answer to 
the inquiry how Lord North received the 
aews? — "As lie would have received a ball 
in his breast; for he opened his arms, ex- 
claiming wildly as lie paced up and down 
tlie apartment, ' Oh God ! It is all over — 
it is all over J'" King George III. was at 
Kew, and the intelligence was forwarded 
to him at that place. He exhibited no loss 
of self-control, it is said, notwithstanding 
the hopes which had been centered in Corn- 



wallis and his army, to give triumph to 
the British arms. 

It is well known that, during the month 
of November, the accounts received by the 
British government, of Lord Cornwallis's 
embarrassments, gave great anxiety to the 
cabinet. Lord George Germain, in partic- 
ular, conscious that on the prosperous or 
adverse result of Cornwallis's movements 
hinged the result of the whole American 
contest, as well as his own political fate — 
and probably the duration of the ministry 
itself, — expressed to his friends the strong- 
est uneasiness on the subject. The meet- 
ing of parliament stood fixed for the 27th 
of that month. On the 25th, the official 
intelligence of the unconditional surrender 
of the British forces of Yorktown, arrived 
at Lord Germain's house. Lord Walsing- 
ham, who, previous to his father. Sir Wil- 
liam de Grej''s elevation to the peerage, 
had been under-secretary of state in that 
department, and who was to second the 
address in the house of lords, happened to 
be there when the messenger brought the 
news. Without communicating it to any 
unofficial person. Lord George, for the 
purpose of dispatch, immediately got with 
him into a hackney-coach, and drove to 
Lord Storniouut's residence in Portland 
Place. Having imparted the disastrous 
information to him, they determined, after 
a short consultation, to lay the intelligence 
themselves iu person before Lord North, 
with what result has already been stated 
on the authority of a writer in Blackwood's 
Magazine. 

The next picture is that of a cabinet 
council in terror. When the first agitation 
had subsided, the four ministers discussed 
the question, whether it might not be ex- 
pedient to prorogue the meeting of parlia- 
ment for a few days ; but as scarcely an 
interval of forty-eight hours remained be- 
fore the appointed time of meeting, and as 
many members of both houses had arrived 
in London, or were on their way, the prop- 
osition was abandoned. It became, how- 
ever, indispensable to alter, and almost 
remodel, the king's speech. This was 
done without delay, and at the same time 



60 



CORNWALLIS' SURRENDER. 



Lord George, as secretary for the American 
department, sent off a dispatch to tlie 
king, then at Kew, acquainting him with 
Cornwallis's fate. 

One who was intimate in the circle of 
court actors and secrets at that time says : 
— I dined that day at Lord George's, and 
although the information which had 
reached London in the course of the morn- 
ing from France, as well as from the offi- 
cial report, was of a nature not to admit of 
long concealment, yet it had not been 
communicated to me or any other individ- 
ual of the company when I got to Pall 
Mall, between five ami six o'clock. Lord 
Walsingham, who also dined there, was 
then the only person, except Lord George, 
officially knowing to the fact. The party, 
nine in number, sat down to the table. I 
thought the master of the house appeared 
serious, though he manifested no discom- 
posure. Before dinner was over, a letter 
was brought from the king, by the messen- 
ger who had been dispatched to him with 
the startling intelligence. Lord Walsing- 
ham simply indulged in the observation : 
"The king writes just as he always docs, 
except that I perceive he has neglected to 
mark the hour and minute of his writing 
with his usual precision." This remark, 
though calculated to awaken some interest, 
excited no comment; and while the ladies. 
Lord George's three daughters, remained 
in the room, all manifestation of curiosity 
was repressed. But they had no sooner 
withdrawn, than Lord George having com- 
municated the fact that information had 
iust arrived from Paris of the old Count 
Maurepas, first minister of the French 
cabinet, lying at the point of death, the 
remark was made by one of the party — 

" It would grieve me to finish my career, 
however far advanced in j'ears, were I first 
minister of France, before I had witnessed 
the termination of this great contest be- 
tween England and America." 

"He has survived to see that event," at 
once replied Lord George Germain, with 
some agitation. 

The conversation was continued, until, 
on the more particular mention of the Vir- 



ginia campaign, the minister disclosed 
the full bearing of the intelligence he had 
received, saj'ing — 

" The army has surrendered, and you 
may jieruse the j)articulars of the capitula- 
tion in that jiaper." 

The paper was taken from his pocket, 
and read to the company. The next ques- 
tion was one of rather an obtrusive kind, 
to learn what the king thought on the 
subject. In reply to this, the minister's 
remark did the highest credit to his raaj- 
estj''s firmness, fortitude and consistency. 
The minister even allowed the king's bil- 
let to be read, and it was as follows : — 

' I have received, with sentiments of the 
deepest concern, the communication which 
Lord George Germain has made to me, of 
the unfortunate result of the operations to 
Virginia. I particularly lament it, on 
account of the consequences connected with 
it and the difficulties which it may produce 
in carrying on the public business, or in 
repairing such a misfortune. But I trust 
that neither Lord Germain, nor any other 
member of the cabinet, will suppose that it 
makes the smallest alteration in those 
principles of my conduct, which have di- 
rected me in the past time, which will al- 
ways continue to animate me under every 
event, in the prosecution of the present 
contest.' 

The cabinet, strengthened by the royal 
determination, now recovered courage; 
they met parliament at the appointed time, 
and fought their battle there with unusual 
vigor. Perhaps in all the annals of sena- 
torial struggle, there never was a crisis 
which more powerfully displayed the 
talents of the Commons. Burke, Fox, and 
Pitt, were at once seen pouring down the 
whole fiery torrent of declamation on the 
government. 

But at all events, the success of the 
siege of Yorktown, it is generally under- 
stood, decided the revolutionary war. 
" The infant Hercules," said Dr. Franklin, 
" has now strangled the two serpents, that 
attacked him in his cradle." AH the world 
agree that no expedition was arer better 
planned or better executed. For the 



CORNWALLIS' SURRENDER. 



61 



" great glory and advantage " of Cornwal- 
lis's subjection, W:isliington afterwards 
acknowledged himself chiefly indebted to 
the French alliance. And in (he isroceed- 
ings of congress upon the matter, it was 
amongst other things: 'Resolved, that 
congress cause to be erected at Yorktown 
a marble column, adorned with emblems of 
the alliance between the United States 
and France, and inscribed with a succinct 
narrative of the siege, and capitulation.' 
Special thanks were also tendered bj' that 
body's vote, to each commander engaged 
in the siege ; and to Washington were 
presented two stands of colors taken from 
the enemjr, and two pieces of field ordnance 
to Counts Rochambeau and de Grasse. 

The next day after the surrender was 
the Sabbath, and Washington ordered 
special divine service in each of the brig- 
ades of the American army. He also by 
public proclamation congratulated the 
allied armies on the auspicious victory, 
awarding high praise to the officers and 
troops, both French and American, for 
their conduct daring the siege, and speci- 
fying by name several of the generals and 
other officers who liad especially distin- 
guished themselves. All those of his army 
who were under arrest were pardoned and 
set free. 

News of this glorious victory sped like 
lightning over the land. Washington dis- 
patched at once one of his aids, Colonel 
Tilghman, to congress, then sitting in 
Philadelphia. The swift rider dashed on 
a gallop into the city at midnight — the 
clatter of his horse's hoofs the only sound 
that broke the silence of the deserted 
streets, as he pressed straight for the house 
of McKean, then president of congress. 
Thundering at the door as though he 
would force an entrance, he roused the 
sleeping president, saying, " Cornwallis is 
taken ! " The watchmen caught the words, 
and when they called " One o'clock," they 
added, "and Cornwallis is taken!" As 
they moved slowly on their nightly rounds, 
windows were flung open and eager coun- 
tenances were everywhere scanning the 
streets. A hum, like that of a.i awaken- 



ing hive, immediately pervaded the city. 
The inhabitants went pouring into the 
streets, w-hile shout after shout rose on the 
midnight air. The old bellman was roused 
from his slumbers, and soon the iron 
tongue of the bell at the state-house rang 
out, as of old, " Proclaim libertj' through- 
out all the land to all the inhabitants 
thereof." The dawn was greeted with the 
booming of cannon ; and salvos of artillery, 
and shouts of joy, and tears of thanksgiving, 




accompanied the glad news as it traveled 
exultingly over the length and breadth of 
the land. Every voice was loud in its 
praise of General Washington, and of his 
gallant ally, the Count de Rochambeau. 

It is stated as an interesting fact in the 
history of this great event and the charac- 
ter of the two chief commanders, that, on 
the day after the surrender, Cornwallis 
went in person to pay his respects to Gen- 
eral Washington and await his orders. 
The captive chief was received with all the 
courtesy due to a gallant and unfortunate 
foe. The elegant manners, together with 
the manly, frank, and soldierly bearing of j 
Cornwallis, soon made him a prime favor- 
ite at head-quarters, and he often formed 
part of the suite of the commander-in- 
chief in his rides to inspect the leveling of 
the works previous to the retirement of the 
combined American and French armies 
from before Yorktown. At the grand din- 
ner given at the head-quarters to the offi- 
cers of the three armies, Washington filled 
his glass, and, after his favorite toast, 
whether in peace or war, of "All our 



62 



CORNWALLIS' SURRENDER. 



friends," gave "The British army," with 
some complimentary remarks upon its 
chief, his proud career in arms, and his 
srallant defense of Yorktown. When it 
came to Cornwallis's turn, he prefaced his 
toast by saying that the war was virtually 
at an end, and the contending parties 
would soon embrace as friends ; there 
might be affairs of posts, but nothing on 
a mc>j:e enlarged scale, as it was scarcely 



to be expected that the ministry would 
send another army to America. Then 
turning to Washington, his lordship con- 
tinued — 

" And when the illustrious part that 
your excellency has borne in this long and 
arduous contest becomes matter of history, 
fame will gather your brightest laurels 
rather from the banks of the Delaware 
than from those of the Chesapeake." 



VI. 
ADIEU TO THE ARMY BY WASHINGTON.— 1783. 



Affectinf Interviews and Parting Words between the Great Chieftain and His Coniradesin-Arms. — 
Solemn Farewell Audience with Congress,— In Its Presence He Voluntarily Divests Himself of His 
Supreme Authority, Returns His Victorious Sword, and Becomes a Private Citizen. — History of the 
Election of a Military Leader. — America's Destiny in His Hands. — Appointment of George Wash- 
ington The Army at Cambridge, Mass. — He Immediately Takes Command. — Is Enthusiastically 

Greeted. Leads Its Fortunes Seven Years. — Record of His Generalship. — Ends the War in Tri- 
umph. Scheme to Make Him King. — Indignantly Rebukes the Proposal. — Last Review of His 

Troops. His Strong Attachment for Them. — Intention to Leave Public Life — Congress Informed of 

this Fact.— Embarkation from New York.— Homage Paid Him Everywhere —Arrival at Annapo- 

lig Proceeds to the Halls of Congress. — Impressive Ceremonial Tliere. — Rare Event in Human 

History. 



" HaviD^ DOW flniBhed the work aaaiffned me, I retire from the theater of action, and, bidding an affectionate farewell to thli august body^ 
under whoie orders I have eo long acted, I hereoffer my commiaaiou, and take my leave of all the employments of public Ufe."— Wasuino- 

TOH'S RKTIBBMENT A3 RETOLUTION AST LfiADEn. 




■WASHINGTON' 

in regard 
ern, and 



HAT momentous object for which the War of Independence was for 
seven long years waged, under the supreme leadership of General 
\ Washington, having been achieved by the unconditional acknowledg- 
ment of that independence on the part of Great Britain, a cessation 
of hostilities was formally announced by congress to a rejoicing 
people. Washington's military course having thus honorably and 
successfully terminated, ' e, Cincinnatus-like, sheathed his sword, 
and surrendered his high commission to that power which had in- 
vested him with its authoritj'. It will, therefore, not only be appro- 
priate, but of peculiar interest, to link together, in one narrative, the 
circumstances attending his appointment to the responsible office of 
commander-in-chief of the revolutionary army, and that last great 
act — the Return of his Commission — in the stupendous drama of 
which he was the central figure. 

To that sterling old patriot, John Adams, the credit of the wisdom 
of selecting Washington as military chieftain principallj' belongs. 
It was a question, on the decision of which hung the fate of the rev- 
olutionary cause ; and in all parts of the country, among the people 
at large as well as in the more immediate circles of congress, by 
whom the great question was finally to be determined, the discussion 
as to who should be chosen as the nation's leader in the councils of 
'3 SWORD, war and on the battle-field, was universal. Mr. Adams states that 
to this election, there was in congress a southern party against a north- 
a jealousy against a New England army under the command of a 



64 



ADIEU TO THE ARMY BY WASHINGTON. 



New England general ; but -whether this 
jealousy was sincere, or whetlicr it was 
mere pride and ambition — the ambition of 
furnishing a southern general to command 
the northern arm 3-, — was a matter of 
doubt. The intention, however, was very 
visible that Colonel Washington was their 
object. 

The military ability which had been dis- 
played, on different occasions, by Colonel 
Washington, were well understood, and, 
from the consiiicuous positions in which 
he had thus been placed, and the saga- 
cious judgment which was known to have 
characterized him in imjjortant emergen- 
cies, he had, for a long time past, enjoyed 
a fine reputatioa throughout the colonies, 
as a gallant and successful officer. He was 
only in a moderate sense a partisan, in 
the difficulties and discussions which had 
arisen between his own and the mother 
country ; but, from the very first, he ex- 
hibited sufficient repugnance to any atti- 
tude of v.assalage, on the part of his coun- 
trymen, to show that he would be no will- 
ing subject of coeicion, should the preten- 
sions of the British be attempted to be car- 
ried out by threats, or by recourse to arms. 

When congress had assembled, Mr. 
John Adams arose in his place, and in as 
short a speech as the subject would admit 
represented the state of the colonies, tlie 
uncertainty in the minds of the people, 
their great expectation and anxietj^, the 
distresses of the arm}', the danger of its 
dissolution, the difficult}' of collecting .an- 
other ; and the jirobability th.at the Brit- 
ish army would take advantage of these 
delays, march out of Boston, and spread 
desolation as far as thej' could go. Ho 
concluded with a motion, in form, that 
congress would adopt the army at Cam- 
bridge, and appoint a general ; that though 
this was not the proper time to nominate a 
general, yet as there existed reasons for 
believing this to be the greatest difficulty, 
he had no hesitation to declare that there 
was but one gentleman in his mind for 
that important office, and that was a gen- 
tleman from Yirginia^-one of their own 
number, and well known to them all, — a 



gentleman whose skill and experience as an 
officer, whose independent fortune, great 
talents, and excellent general character, 
would cmnmand the approbation of all 
America, and unite the cordial exertions 
of all the colonies better than any other 
person in the Union. 

Mr. W^ashington, who happened to sit 
near the door, as soon as he heard this al- 
iusion to himself, with his usual modesty, 
darted into the library' room. 

The subject came under debate, and 
several gentlemen declared themselves 
against the .appointment of Mr. Washing- 
ton, not on account of any personal objec- 
tion against him, but because the army 
were all from New England, had a general 
of their own, appeared to be satisfied with 
him, and had proved themselves able to 
imprison the British army in Boston. 
Mr. Pendleton, of Virginia, and Mr. 
Sherman, of Connecticut, were very ex- 
plicit in declaring this opinion. Mr. 
Cushing and others more faintly expressed 
their opposition, and their fears of discon- 
tent in the army and in New England. 
Mr. Paine expressed a great opinion of 
General Ward, and a strong friendship 
for him, having been his classmate at col- 
lege, or, at least, his contemporary ; but 
gave no opinion on the question. The 
subject was postponed to a future day. In 
the meantime, pains were taken out of 
doors to obtain a unanimity, and the voices 
were generally so clearly in favor of Wash- 
ington, that the dissenting members wei3 
persuaded to withdraw their opposition, 
and Mr. W^ashington was nominated by 
Mr. Thomas Johnson, of Maryland, unan- 
imously elected, and the army adopted. 

His official commission was at once 
drawn np and presented to him ; a copy of 
which most interesting document is given 
below : — 

" In Congress. We the delegates of the 
United Colonies of New Hampshire, Mas- 
sachusetts Bay, Rhode Island, Connecticut, 
New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, 
New Castle, Kent, and Sussex on Dela- 
ware, Jlaryland, Virginia, North Carolina, 
and South Carolina, 



ADIEU TO THE ARMY BY WASHINGTON. 



65 



To Oiorge Washington, Esquire : 

We, reposing special trust and confi- 
dence in your patriotism, conduct, and 
fidelity, do by these presents constitute and 
appoint you to be General and Com- 
mander-in-Chief of the army of the 
United Colonies, and of all the forces 
raised or to be raised by them, and of all 
others who shall voluntarily offer their 
services and join the said army for the de- 
fense of American liberty, and for repelling 
ever}' hostile invasion thereof. And you 
are hereby invested with full power and 
authority to act as you shall think for the 
good and welfare of the service. 

And we do hereby strictly charge and 
require all officers and soldiers under your 
command to be obedient to your orders, 
and diligent in the exercise of their several 
duties. 

And we do also enjoin and require you 
to be careful in executing the great trust 
reposed in you, by causing strict discipline 
and order to be observed in the army, and 
that the soldiers are duly exercised and 
provided with all convenient necessaries. 

And you are to regulate your conduct in 
every respect by the rules and discipline 
of war, (as herewith given you,) and punc- 
tually to observe and follow such direc- 
tions, from time to time, as j'ou shall re- 
ceive from this or a future Congress of the 
said United Colonies, or "a Committee of 
Congress for that purpose appointed. 

This commission to continue in force till 
revoked by this or a future Congress. 
By order of Congress. 

John Hancock, President. 
Dated, Philadelphia, June 19, 1775. 
Attest, CH.4.ELES Thomson, Secretarj'." 

On the second day of July, 1775, Wash- 
ington arrived in Cambridge, Massachu- 
setts, accompanied by Major-General Lee, 
his next in command, and other officers, 
establishing his head-quarters at the man- 
sion subsequently occupied by Longfellow, 
the elegant scholar and poet. At about 
nine o'clock on the morning of the next 
day, Washington, attended by a suitable 
escort, proceeded from his head-quarters to 
a great elm tree— one of the majestic na- 



tives of the forest, — near Harvard College, 
and where the continental forces were 
drawn up in military order. Under the 
shadow of that wide-spreading tree, Wash- 
ington, moving forward a few paces, drew 
his sword as commander-in-chief of the 
American army, declaring that it should 




THE WASHINGTON ELM, CAMBRIDGE, MASS. 

never be sheathed until the liberties of his 
countrj' were established. The record of 
his services is the historj' of the whole 
war. Joining the army in July, 1775, he 
compelled the British to evacuate Boston 
in March, 1776 ; he then followed the 
British to New York, fighting the battle 
of Long Island on the twentj'-seventh of 
August, and that of White Plains on the 
twentv-eighth of October. On the twentj-- 
fifth of December he made the memorable 
passage of the Delaware, and soon gained 
the victories of Trenton and Princeton. 
The battle of Brandywine was fought on 
the eleventh of September, 1777, and that 
of Germantown, October fourth. Febru- 
ary twenty-eighth, 1778, witnessed his 
" gloriou" and happj^ day," as he himself 
termed it, at Monmouth. In 1779 and 
1780 he conducted the militarj' operations 
in the vicinity of New York ; after which, 
in 1781, lie marched to Virginia to watch 
the movements of Lord Cornwallis, whom 
he forced to surrender at Yorktown, in 
October, by which great achievement he 
put an end to the active operations of the 
revolutionary struggle, and secured peace 
and independence to his countr}-. 

With the return of peace, and the 
achievement of independent nationality, 



66 



ADIEU TO THE ARMY BY WASHINGTON. 



tlie wisdom and patriotism of Washington 
were to be severe!}' tested, and in a most 
unexpected manner, in connection witli tlie 
form of government to be adopted by tlie 
United States. The English government 
Ti-as regarded by many of tlie strongest 
American minds as, in most respects, a 
model one ; and by many persons the En- 
glish form of a constitutional monarchy 
was decided, especially by some of the 
army officers, to be the most promising, 
and thus far the most successful, experi- 
ment in government, and the one most 



this scheme called a secret meeting, and 
finally determined on tlie title of Kikg, 
and Washington was informed of the fact. 
He spurned the gilded bribe of a king's 
crown, and promptly and sternly rebuked 
the abettors of the scheme in the following 
letter addressed to their leader : 

"Sit; — With a mixture of great sur- 
prise and astonishment, I have read witli 
attention the sentiments you have sub 
mitted to my perusal. Be assured, sir, 
no occurrence in the course of this war has 
given me more painful sensations than 




\\"A?«HINti TON'S KESIliNATIOX. 



likely to be adopted by America upon due 
deliberation. Universal dissatisfaction was 
felt with the proceedings and conduct of 
congress as a governing power, and there- 
fore some agency superior to that, and of 
controlling prerogative, was proposed, — a 
head, like the English sovereign, with 
proper safeguards against usurpation. 
Circumstances, of course, indicated Wash- 
ington as that head, and the next ques- 
tion naturally arose — under what official 
title should such a head rule ? The officers 
around Newburgh who were associated in 



your information of there being such ideas 
existing in the army as jouhave expressed, 
and which I must view with abhorrence 
and reprehend with severity. For the 
present, the communication of them will 
rest in my own bosom, unless some further 
agitation of the matter shall make a dis- 
closure necessary. I am much at a loss to 
conceive what part of my conduct could 
have given encouragement to an address 
which to me seems big with the greatest 
mischiefs that can befall my country. If 
I am not deceived in the knowledge of 



ADIEU TO THE AKMY BY WASHINGTON. 



67 



myself, j'ou could not have found a person 
to whom your schemes are more disagree- 
able. At the same time, in justice to my 
own feelings, I must add, that no man 
possesses a more serious wish to see ample 
justice done to the army than I do; and, 
as far as my power and influence, in a con- 
stitutional way, extend, they shall be em- 
ployed to the utmost of my abilities to 
effect it, should there be any occasion. 
Let me conjure j'ou, then, if you have any 
regard for your country, concern for your- 
seK or posterity, or respect for me, to 
banish these thoughts from j-our mind, and 
never communicate, as from yourself or 
any one else, a sentiment of the like na- 
ture." 

In perfect keeping with the spirit in 
which Washington treated the dazzling 
offer thus so unexpectedly set before him, 
was the simplicity of his conduct in bid- 
ding adieu to his comrades-in-arms, and 
then presenting himself before congress, 
there to deliver up his sword, and volunta- 
rily divest himself of the supreme com- 
mand; — in the serene and thoughtful 
phraseology of his own words, " to address 
himself once more, and that for the last 
time, to the armies of the United States, 
however widely dispersed the individuals 
who compose them may be, and to bid them 
an affectionate and a long farewell." 

For the last time, he assembled them at 
Newburgh, when he rode out on the field, 
and gave them one of those paternal ad- 
dresses which so eminently characterized 
his relationship with his army. To the 
tune of " Koslin Castle," — the soldier's 
dirge, — his brave comrades passed slowly 
by their great leader, and filed away to their 
respective homes. It was a thrilling scene. 
There were gray-headed soldiers, who had 
grown old by hardships and exposures, and 
too old to begin life anew ; tears coursed 
freely the furrowed cheeks of these veter- 
ans. Among the thousands passing in 
review before him were those, also, who 
liaddone valorous service when the destiny 
of the country hung tremblingly in the 
balance. As Washington looked upon 
them for the last time, he said, " I am 



growing old in my country's service, and 
losing my sight ; but I never doubted its 
justice or gratitude." Even on the rudest 
and roughest of the soldiery, the effect of 
his parting language was irresistible. 

On the fourth of December, 1783, by 
Washington's request, his officers in full 
uniform, assembled in Fraunces's tavern, 
New York, to take a final leave of their 
commander-in-chief. On entering the 
room, and finding himself surrounded by 
his old companions-in-arms, who had 
shared with him so many scenes of hard- 
ship, difficultj"-, and danger, his agitated 
feelings overcame his usual self-command. 
Every man arose with eyes turned towards 
him. Filling a glass of wine, and lifting it 
to his lips, he rested his benignant but sad- 
dened countenance upon them, and said, — 

"With a heart full of love and grati- 
tude, I now take leave of you. I most de- 
voutly wish that j'our latter days may be 
as prosperous as your former ones have 
been honorable and glorious." Having 
drunk, he added, " I cannot come to each 
of you to take my leave, but shall be 
obliged to you, if each of you will come 
and take me by the hand." A profound 
silence followed, as each officer gazed on 
the countenance of their leader, while the 
eyes of all were wet with tears. He then 
expressed again his desire that each of 
them should come and take him by the 
hand. The first, being nearest to him, 
was General Knox, who grasped his hand 
in silence, and both embraced each other 
without uttering a word. One after an- 
other followed, receiving and returning the 
affectionate adieu of their commander, 
after which he left the room in silence, 
followed by his officers in procession, to 
embark in the barge that was to convey 
him to Paulus's Hook, now Jersey City. 
As he was passing through the light in- 
fantry drawn up on either side to receive 
him, an old soldier, who was by his side 
on the terrible night of his march to 
Trenton, stepped out from the ranks, and 
reaching out his arms, exclaimed, " Fare- 
well, viy dear (jeneral, farewell! " Wash- 
ington seized his hand most heartily, when 



68 



ADIEU TO THE ARMY BY WASHINGTON. 



the soldiers forgot all discipline, rushed 
towards their chief, and bathed him with 
their tears. The scene was like that of a 
good patriarch taking leave of his children, 
and going on a long journe}', from whence 
he might return no more. 

Having entered the barge, he turned to 
the weeping company upon the wharf, and 
waving his hat, bade them a silent adieu. 
They stood with heads uncovered, until 
the barge was hidden from their view, 
when, in silent and solemn procession, they 
returned to the place where they had as- 
sembled. Congress was at this time in 
session at Annapolis, Maryland, to which 
place Washington now proceeded, greeted 
along his whole route with enthusiastic 
homage, for the purpose of formally resign- 
ing his commission. He arrived on the 
nineteenth of December, 1783, and the 
next day he informed congress of the pur- 
pose for which he had come, and requested 
to know whether it would be their pleas- 
ure that he should offer his resignation in 
writing, or at an audience. A committee 
was appointed by congress, and it was de- 
cided that on Tuesday, December twenty- 
third, the ceremonial should take place as 
follows : — 

The president and members are to be 
seated and covered, and the secretary to 
be standing by the side of the president ; 
the arrival of the general to be announced 
by the messenger to the secretary, who is 
thereupon to introduce the general, at- 
tended by his aids, into the hall of con- 
gress ; the general, being conducted to a 
chair by the secretary, is to be seated, with 
an aid on each side standing, and the 
secretary is to resume his place. After a 
proper time for the arrangement of spec- 
tators, silence is to be ordered bj' the sec- 
retary, if necessary-, and the president is to 
address the general in the following 
words : " Sir, — The United States in con- 
gress assembled are prepared to receive your 
communications." Whereupon the gen- 
eral is to arise and address congress ; after 
which he is to deliver his commission and 
a copy of his address to the president. 
The general having resumed his place, the 



president is to deliver the answer of con- 
gress, which the general is to receive 
standing; the president having finished, 
the secretary is to deliver the general a 
copy of the answer, and the general is then 
to take his leave. When the general rises 
to make his address, and also when he 
retires, he is to bow to congress, which 
they are to return by uncovering without 
bowing. 

AYhen the hour arrived, the president. 
General Mifilin, informed him that that 
body was prepared to receive his commu- 
nications. With a native dignity, height- 
ened by the solemnity of the occasion, the 
general rose. In a brief and appropriate 
speech he offered his congratulations on 
the termination of the war, and having 
alluded to his object in appearing thus in 
that presence, — that he might resign into 
the hands of congress the trust committed 
to him, and claim the indulgence of retir- 
ing from the public ser\'ice, — he concluded 
with those affecting words, which drew 
tears from the eyes of all in that vast as- 
sembly : 

" I consider it an indispensable duty to 
close this last act of my official life, by 
commending the interests of our dearest 
country to the protection of Almighty 
God, and those who have the superintend- 
ence of them, to his holy keeping. Having 
now finished the work assigned me, I 
retire from the theater of action, and, 
bidding an affectionate farewell to this 
august body, under whose orders I have so 
long acted, I here offer my commission, 
and take my leave of all the employments 
of juiblic life." 

After advancing to the chair, and deliv- 
ering his commission to the president, he 
returned to his place, and remained stand- 
ing, while General Mifilin replied, review- 
ing the great career thus brought to a 
close, and saj'ing, in conclusion : 

" The glory of your virtues will not ter- 
minate with your military command ; it 
will continue to animate the remotest ages. 
We join with you in commending the in- 
terests of our country to Almighty God, 
beseeching Him to dispose the hearts and 



ADIEU TO THE ARMY BY WASHINGTON. 



69 



minds of its citizens to improve the op- 
portunity afforded them of becoming 
a happy and respectable nation. And 
for you, we address to Him our warm- 
est prayers, that a life so beloved may 



be fostered with all His care, that your 
days may be as happy as they have been 
illustrious, and that He will finally give 
you that reward which this world cannot 
bestow." 



VII. 



APPOINTMENT OF THE FIRST MINISTER PLENIPOTEN- 
TIARY, FROM THE NEW REPUBLIC TO THE 
ENGLISH COURT.— 1785. 



Jolin AiKims, America's Sturdiest Patriot, and tlie Fi)remost Enemy of British Tyranny, Fills this 
High Office — Interview between Ilim and King George, His Late Sovereign. — Their Addresses, 
Temper, Personal Bearing, and Humorous Conversation. — The Two Men Rightly Matched Against 
Each Other. — Old Animosities Unhealed — Mutual Charges of False Dealing. — Settlement Demanded 

by the United States. — What Adams's Mission Involved — Dismemberment of the British Kealm. 

Loss of the Fairest Possession. — Bitter Pill for the King. — His Obstinacy Forced to Yield. — Humilia- 
tion of the Proud Monarch. — All Europe Watches the Event. — Mr. Adams Presented at Court. — Pa- 
triot and King Face to Face. — Official Address by the Minister. — Reply of King George. — His Visi- 
ible Agitation. — Adams's Presence of Mind. — Pays Ilia Homage to the Queen — Her Majesty's Re- 
sponse — Civilities by the Royal Family. — Results of this Embassy. — Pitiable Position of George the 
Third. — Fatal Error of Great Britain. 



•• I muBt avow to your majesty, I have do attachment but to my own country."— Joaw Adaus to Kino Qeoroe. 
" An honeat mm will have no other." — Tub Ki.va'3 Instant Replt. 




O deep-seated and festering were 
the old animosities between Amer- 
. ica and tlio mother country, that, 
scarcely had the war of the revo- 
^ lution terminated, when the two 
nations reciprocally charged each 
other with violating the treaty of 
i peace. The United States were 
accused of having infringed those 
articles which contained agree- 
ments respecting the payment of 
debts, the confiscation of property, 
and prosecution of individuals for the part taken by them during the war. On the 
other hand, the English were charged with violating that article which stijjulated 
against the destruction or carrying away of any description of American property; 
the king was also complained of, for still retaining possession of the posts on the 
American side of the great lakes, thus influencing the Indian tribes to hostility ; 
and, above all other sources and causes of complaint, iu the conduct of Great Britain, 
was her rigorous and restrictive commercial system. 

These growing misunderstandings between the two countries, discussed with such 
angry vehemence on both sides, threatened such serious consequences should their adjust- 
ment be much longer delayed, that congress determined ujjon the important step of 



AillTV l,ErWEEN ENGLAND AND AMERICA. 



FIRST MDSriSTEE, TO ENGLAND. 



71 



appointing, after tlie manner of independ- 
ent nations, a Minister Pleyiipotentianj to 
the court of Great Britain ! 

In February, 1785, John Adams was 
duly accredited ambassador, to rejjresent 
the United States at that court. 

That George the Third was as obstinate 
It man as ever ruled a kingdom, no histo 
lian has ever questioned. Having struck 
at the rights and liberties of America, in 
order to add to the riches of his coffers, 
nothing could turn him from his determin- 



ation to rule, or to ruin and destroy. To 
the suggestion that the king's rule over 
the colonies might be slightly softened or 
modified. Lord North despairingly replied : 
" It is to no purpose the making objec- 
tions, for the king will have it so." But 
in no more forcible phrase could the king's 
arbitrary' temper concerning his colonies 
te shown, that in that which fell from his 
own lips, in the presence of the new en- 
voy, namel}-, "I ivas the last man in the 
kingdom, sir, to consent to the indejyend- 
ence of America." 

Of all the opponents of British misrule, 
in the western world, John Adams was 
the earliest, ablest, most intrepid and un- 
tiring. It was John Adams, who, in 




177.5, in the memorable continental con- 
gress, at riiiladelphia, suggested George 
AVashingtou as commander-in-chief of the 
army that was to wage war against Great 
Britain — and, even before this crowning 
act, had sent across the Atlantic, ringing 
into the ears of the haughty monarch, the 
epithets tyrant and usiuyer. 

The kingly ceremony of acknowledging 
the colonies independent took place, in con- 
formity with previous arrangements, on 
the fifth of December, 1782, in the house 
of lords. The scene was one which 
drew together an immense and won- 
dering crowd of spectators, conspicu- 
ous among whom was the celebrated 
admiral Lord Howe, who had just re- 
turned from a successful relief of 
Gibraltar, and who had now elbowed 
himself exactly in front of the throne, 
to listen, sadly, to his country's hu- 
miliation. The ladies of the nobility 
occupied the lords' seats on the wool- 
sacks, so called, as an emblem of the 
power and wealth of old England, 
because it had been mainly derived 
from wool. The lords were standing 
here and there promiscuously. It 
was a dark and foggj' day, and the 
windows being elevated and con- 
structed in the antiquated stj'le, with 
leaden bars to contain the diamond- 
cut panes of glass, augmented the 
gloom. The walls were also hung 
with dark tapestry, representing the de- 
feat of the great Spanish armada. The 
celebrated American painters, West and 
Copley, were in the throng, with some 
American ladies, also a number of dejected- 
looking American roj'alists. After a 
tedious suspense of nearly two hours, the 
approach of the king was announced by a 
tremendous roar of artillery. He entered 
by a small door on the left of the throne, 
and immediately seated himself in the chair 
of state, in a graceful attitude, with his 
right foot resting on a stool. He was 
clothed in the magnificent robes of British 
majesty. Evidently agitated, he drew 
slowly from his pocket a scroll containing 
his humbling speech. The commons were 



72 



FIRST MINISTER TO ENGLAND. 



summoned, and, after the bustle of their 
entrance had subsided, the thrilling mo- 
ment arrived, when the speech was to be 
read. After some general remarks, usual 
on public occasions, he said : 

*• I lost no time in giving the necessary 
orders to prohibit the further prosecution 
of offensive war upon the continent of 
North America. Adopting, as my inclin- 
ation will always lead me to do, with de- 
cision and effect, whatever I collect to be 
the sense of my parliament and my people, 
I have pointed all my views and measures, 
in Europe, as in North America, to an 
entire and cordial reconciliation with the 
colonies. Finding it indispensable to the 
attainment of this object, I did not hesi- 
tate to go to the full length of the power 
vested in me, and therefore I now declare 
them " — here he paused, in evident agita- 
tion, either embarrassed in reading his 
speech, by the darkness of the room, or 
affected by a very natural emotion, but, 
recovering himself in a moment by a 
strong convulsive movement, he added — 
'^ free and independent states. In thus 
admitting their separation from the crown 
of this kingdom, I have sacrificed every 
consideration of my own, to the wishes and 
opinions of my people. I make it my 
humble and ardent prayer to Almighty 
God, that Great Britain may not feel the 
evils which might result from so great a 
dismemberment of the empire, and that 
America may be free from the calamities 
which have formerly proved, in the mother 
country, how essential monarchy is to the 
enjoyment of constitutional liberty. Re- 
ligion, language, interests, and affection 
may, and I hope will, yet prove a bond of 
permanent union between the two coun- 
tries." 

It was universally remarked of King 
George, that, though celebrated for read- 
ing his speeches in a distinct, composed, 
and impressive manner, he was on this 
occasion painfully lacking in his usual 
self-possession ; he hesitated, choked, and 
executed the high but humbling duties of 
the occasion, in a manner which showed 
that he was deeply mortified. 



Mr. Adams was at Paris when he re- 
ceived information of his appointment, in 
1785, to confront his late king and roj-al 
master. In an account given by Mr. 
Adams himself, of his movements at this 
time, he saj's : At Versailles, the Count 
de Vergennes said he had man}' felicita- 
tions to give me upon my appointment to 
England. I answered that I did not 
know but it merited compassion more than 
felicitation. " Aj', why ? " " Because, aa 
j'ou know, it is a species of degradation, in 
the eyes of Europe, after having been ac- 
credited to the king of France, to be sent 
to any other court." 

" But permit me to say," replies the 
count, "it is a great thing to he the first 
ambassador from your country to the 
country you sj)ra7tg from. It is a mark." 

One of the foreign ambassadors said to 
me — 

" You have been often in England." 

" Never, but once in November and De- 
cember, 1783." 

" You have relations in England, no 
doubt." 

" None at all." 

" None, how can that be ? you are of 
English extraction." 

"Neither my father or mother, grand- 
father or grandmother, great grandfather 
or great grandmother, nor any other rela- 
tion that I know of, or care a farthing for, 
has been in England these one hundred 
and fifty years ; so that you see I have not 
one drop of blood in my veins but what is 
American." 

" Ay, we have seen j)roof enough of 
that." 

In the month of Maj-, Mr. Adams trans- 
ferred himself and family to the other side 
of the channel, prepared to undertake the 
new duties to which he had been ajn 
pointed. The first thing to be done was 
to go through the ceremony of presenta- 
tion to the sovereign ; to stand face to face 
with the man whom he had for the first 
forty years of his life habitually regarded 
as his master, and who never ceased to 
regard him, and the rest of his country- 
men, as no better than successful rebels 



FIEST MINISTER TO ENGLAND. 



73 



against his legitimate authority. In his 
dispatch to Mr. Jay, then American secre- 
tary of foreign affairs, Mr. Adams gave 
the following very interesting account of 
this meeting : — 

At one o"clock on Wednesday, the first 
of June, 1785, the master of ceremonies 
called at my house, and went with me to the 
secretary of state's office, in Cleveland Eow, 
where the Marquis of Carmarthen received 
and introduced me to Mr. Frazier, his 
under secretary, who had been, as his 



attended by the master of ceremonies, the 
room was very full of ministers of state, 
bishops, and all other sorts of courtiers, as 
well as the next room, which is the king's 
bed-chamber. You may well suppose I 
was the focus of all eyes. I was relieved, 
however, from the embarrassment of it, by 
the Swedish and Dutch ministers, who 
came to me and entertained me with a verj- 
agreeable conversation during the whole 
time. Some other gentlemen, whom I 
had seen before, came to make their com- 




jMilN Al'A.MS 



lordship said, uninterruptedly in that office, 
through all the changes in administration, 
for thirty years. After a short conversa- 
tion, Lord Carmarthen invited me to go 
with him in his coach to court. When we 
arrived in the ante-chamber, the master of 
ceremonies introduced him, and attended 
me while the secretary' of state went to 
take the commands of the king. AVliile I 
stood in this place, where it seems all min- 
isters stand upon such occasions, always 



pliments to me, until the Marquis of Car- 
marthen returned and desired me to go with, 
him to his majesty. I went with his 
lordship through the levee room into the 
king's closet. The door was shut, and I 
was left with his majesty and the secretary 
of state alone. I made the three rever- 
ences : one at the door, another about half- 
way, and another before the presence, 
according to the usage established at this 
and all the northern courts of Europe, and 



74 



FIRST MINISTER TO ENGLAND. 



then I addressed myself to his majesty in 
the following words : 

"Sire: The United States have ap- 
pointed me minister plenipotentiary to 
your majesty, and have directed me to 
deliver to your majesty this letter, which 
contains the evidence of it. It is in obe- 




dience to their express commands, that I 
have the honor to assure 3''our majesty of 
their unanimous disposition and desire to 
cultivate the most friendly and liberal in- 
tercourse between your majesty's subjects 
and their citizens, and of their best wishes 
for your majesty's health and happiness, 
and for that of your family. 

The appointment of a minister from the 
United States to your majesty's court will 
form an epoch in the history of England 
and America. I think myself more fortu- 
nate than all my fellow-citizens, in having 
the distinguished honor to be the first to 
stand in j'our majesty's royal presence in 
a diplomatic character, and I shall esteem 
myself the happiest of men, if I can be 
instrumental in recommending my country 
more and more to your majesty's royal 
benevolence, and of restoring an entire 
esteem, confidence, and affection ; or, in 
better words, ' the old good nature and the 
good old humor,' between people who, 
though separated by an ocean, and under 
different governments, have the same lan- 
guage, a similar religion, a kindred blood. 
I beg your majesty's permission to add, 



that, although I have sometimes before 
been instructed by my country, it was 
never in my whole life in a manner so 
agreeable to myself." 

The king listened to every word I said, 
with dignity, it is true, but with apparent 
emotion. Whether it was my visible agi- 
tation, for I felt more than I could ex- 
press, that touched him, I cannot say; 
but he was much affected, and answered 
me with more tremor than I had spoken 
with, and said — 

" SiE : The circumstances of this audi- 
ence are so extraordinary, the language 
j-ou have now held is so extremely proper, 
and the feelings you have discovered so 
justly adapted to the occasion, that I not 
only receive with pleasure the assurance 
of the friendly disposition of the United 
States, but I am glad the choice has fallen 
upon you to be their minister. I wish j'ou, 
sir, to believe, that it may be understood 
in America, that I have done nothing in 
the late contest but what I thought myself 
indispensably bound to do, by the duty 
which I owed my people. I will be frank 
with you. I was the last to conform to 
the separation ; but the separation having 
become inevitable, I have always said, as I 
now say, that I would be the first to meet 
the friendship of the United States as an 
independent power. The moment I see 
such sentiments and language as yours 
prevail, and a disposition to give this 
country the preference, that moment I 
shall say, let the circumstances of lan- 
guage, religion, and blood, have their nat- 
ural, full effect." 

The king then asked me whether I 
came last from France ; upon my answer- 
ing in the afiirmative, he put on an air of 
familiarity, and, smiling, or rather laugh- 
ing, said — 

" There is an opinion among some peo- 
ple that you are not the most attached of 
all your countrymen to the manners of 
France." 

" That opinion, sir, is not mistaken ; I 
must avow to your majesty, I have no at' 
tachment but to my own country." 

The king replied as quick as lightning — 



FIEST MINISTER TO ENGLAND. 



75 



"All honest man will have no other." 

The king then said a word or two to 
the secretary of state, which, being be- 
tween them, I did not hear, and then 
turned round and bowed to me, as is 
customary with all kings and princes 
when they give the signal to retire. I 
retreated, stepping backwards, as is the 
etiquette, and making my last reverence 
at the door of the chamber. 

Mr. Adams was yet to pay his first 
court of homage to the queen. He was 
presented to her on the ninth of June, 
by Lord Allesbury, her lord-chamber- 
lain, — having first been attended to his 
lordship and introduced to him by the 
master of the ceremonies. The queen 
was accompanied by her ladies-in-wait- 
ing, and Mr. Adams made his compli- 
ments to her majesty in the following 
words : 

" Madam, — Among the many circum- 
stances which have rendered my mission 
to his majesty desirable to me, I have 
ever considered it a principal one, that I 
should have an opportunity of paying 
my court to a great queen, whose royal 
virtues and talents have ever been ac- 
knowledged and admired in America, as 
well as in all the nations of Europe, as 
an example to princesses and the glory of 
her sex. 

Permit me, madam, to recommend to 
your majesty's royal goodness a rising em- 
pire and an infant virgin world. 

Another Europe, madam, is rising in 
America. To a philosophical mind, like 
your majesty's, there cannot be a more 
pleasing contemplation, than the prospect 
of doubling the human species, and aug- 
menting, at the same time, their prosper- 
ity and happiness. It will, in future ages, 
be the glory of these kingdoms to have 
peopled that country, and to have sown 
there those seeds of science, of liberty, of 
virtue, and permit me, madam, to add, of 
piety, which alone constitute the prosper- 
ity of nations .and the happiness of the 
human race. 

After venturing upon such high insinu- 
ations to your majesty, it seems to ba 



descending too far, to ask, as I do, your 
majesty's royal indulgence to a person who 
is indeed unqualified for courts, and who 
owes his elevation to this distinguished 
honor of standing before jour majesty, not 
to any circumstances of illustrious birth, 
fortune, or abilities, but merely to an 
ardent devotion to his native country, and 
some little industry and perseverance in 
her service." 

To this address of Mr. Adams, the 
queen answered, in the accustomed royal 
brevity, as follows : 

" I thank you, sir, for your civilities to 
me and my family, and am glad to see 
you in this country." 

The queen then asked Mr. Adams if he 
had provided himself with a house, to 
which question answer was made that he 
had agreed for one that morning. She 
then made her courtesy, and the envoy 
made his reverence, retiring at once into 
the drawing-room, where the king, queen, 
princess royal, and the younger princess, 
her sister, all spoke to the new minister 
very courteously. 

But, notwithstanding the memorable 
historical bearings of this mission of the 
great American statesman, as first ambas- 
sador of the new-born republic, to his late 
august sovereign, — a mission which riveted 
the attention of the civilized world, — and 
although George the Third had submitted 
with dignity to the painful necessity of 
such a meeting, the embassy was attended 
with no permanently favorable result either 
to America or to Mr. Adams. Indeed, of 
the many humiliations which befell the 
unhappy George, perhaps few were felt so 
bitterly as this almost compulsory inter- 
view with the representative of a people, 
once his subjects, afterwards rebels, and 
now free. 

Well and truthfully has the historian 
said, that, in the conduct of the king, 
on this occasion, the obvious wisdom of 
conciliating the young and rising nation 
on the western side of the Atlantic was 
forgotten, and the error of supercilious 
neglect was preferred. Throughout the 
whole political history of Great Britain 



76 



FIKST MINISTER TO ENGLAND. 



this marked fault may be traced in its 
relations with foreign nations, but it 
never showed itself in more striking col- 
ors than during the first half century 



after the independence of the United 
States. The effects of the mistake then 
committed have been perceptible ever 
since. 



VIII. 



FORMATIOiSr AND ADOPTION OF THE FEDERAL CONSTI- 
TUTION.— 1787. 



The United States no Longer a People Witliout a Government. — Establishment of the Republic on a 
Permanent Foundation of Unity, Organic Law and National Polity. — Dignity, Learning, and Elo- 
quence of the Delegates. — Sublime Scene on Signing the Instrument. — Extraordinary Character of 
the Whole Transaction. — State of Things After the War. — Financial Embarrassment — Despondency 
of the People. — Grave Crisis in Public Affairs. — A Grand Movement Initiated. — Plan of Government 
to be Framed. — All the States in Convention. — Washington Chosen to Preside. — Statesmen and Sages 
in Council. — The Old Compact Abrogated. — New Basis of Union Proposed. — Various Schemes Dis- 
cussed.— Jealousy of the Smaller States. — Angry Debates, Sectional Threats. — Bad Prospects of the 
Convention — Its Dissolution Imminent — Franklin's Impressive Appeal. — Compromise and Concilia- 
tion — Final System Agreed Upon. — Patriotism Rules all Hearts. — Ratification by the States. — Na- 
tional Joy at the Decision. 



" Should the states reject this excellent Conltitution, the probability U that an opportunity will never again be offered to cancel another in 
peace— the next will be drown in blood."— Reuakk or Washinotox oir SiosiMO thb Constitution. 




EXBOLLINQ THE CONSTITOTIOS. 



Si^ HOUGH the close of the 
*• war of independence 

resulted in the establish- 
ment of a free national- 
it}', it nevertheless 
brought anxious solici- 
tude to every patriot's 
mind, and this state of 
apprehension and disqui- 
etude increased with each 
succeeding year. The 
state debts which had 
been incurred in anticipation of prosperous times, operated severel}^, after a while, on 
all classes in the community; to meet the pajinent of these debts, at maturity, was 
impossible, and every relief-act only added to the difficulty. This, and kindred 
troubles, financial and governmental, impressed the people with the gloomy conviction 
that the great work of independence, as contemplated in the revolutionary struggle, 
was only half done. It was felt that, above all things, a definite and organic form 
of government — reflecting the will of the people — should be fixed upon, to give energy 
to national power, and success to individual and public enterprise. So portentous a 
crisis as this formed another epoch for the display of the intellectual and political 
attainments of American statesmen, and the ordeal was one through which they passed 
with the highest honor, and with ever-enduring fame, at home and abroad. New men 
appeared on the stage of legislative council and action, and it was found that the quan- 



78 



FOEMATION OF THE CONSTITUTION. 



tity of talent and information necessary in 
the formation period of a new rejJiiblic 
had greatly increased in the various states. 
But, in especial, the great minds that 
achieved the revolution beheld with deep 
concern their country impoverished and 
distracted at home, and of no considera- 
tion among the family of nations. 

A change was now to be wrought, the 
grandeur of which would be acknowledged 
throughout all lands, and its importance 
reach forward to the setting of the sun of 
time. The same hall which had resounded 
with words of patriotic defiance tliat shook 
the throne of King George and proclaimed 
to an astonished world flie Declaration of 
Independence, — that same hall in which 
congress had continued to sit during the 
greater part of the momentous period in- 
tervening, — in the state house at Phila- 
delphia, was soon to witness the assem- 
bling of such a body of men as, in point of 
intellectual talent, personal integrity, and 
loft}' purpose, had perhaps never before 
been brought together. The curious stu- 
dent of this page in modern history has 
sometimes plausibly but speciously attrib- 
uted to mere chance — instead of to that 
Providence which rules in the affairs of 
men — this timely and grand event. Thus, 
General Washington, having contemplated 
with great interest a plan for uniting the 
Potomac and the Ohio rivers, and by this 
means connecting the eastern and western 
waters, made a journey of six hundred and 
eighty miles on horseback, taking minute 
notes of everj'thing which could be subserv- 
ient to this project. His influence, and 
the real imjsortance pf the design, induced 
the legislatures of Virginia and Marjdand 
to send commissioners to Alexandria to 
deliberate on the subject. They met in 
March, 1785, and having spent some time 
at Mount Vernon, determined to recom- 
mend another commission, which might 
establish a general tariff on imports. The 
Virginia legislature not only agreed, but 
invited the other states to send deputies 
to meet at Annapolis. In September, 
1786, they had arrived from five only, and 
with too limited powers. A number of 



able statesmen, however, were thus assem- 
bled, who, feeling deeply the depressed 
and distracted state of the country, became 
sensible that something on a much greater 
scale was necessary to raise her to pros- 
perity, and give her a due place among 
the nations. They therefore drew up a 
report and address to all the states, 
strongly representing the inefficiency of 
the present federal government, and earn- 
estly urging them to send delegates to 
meet at Philadelphia in May, 1787. Con- 
gress responded to this proceeding in Feb- 
ruary, by the passage of resolutions rec- 
ommending the proposed measure, — but of 
which, perhaj)s, they did not then contem- 
plate all the momentous results. 

On the day appointed for the meeting 
of the convention. May fourteenth, 1787, 
only a small number of the delegates had 
arrived in Philadelphia. The delibera- 
tions did not commence, therefore, until 
May twenty-fifth, when there were pres- 
ent twenty-nine members, representing 
nine states. Others soon after came in, 
till the whole number amounted to fifty- 
five. Never, perhaps, had any body of 
men combined for so great a purpose — to 
form a constitution which was to rule so 
numerous a people, and probably during 
so many generations. The members, con- 
sisting of the very ablest men in America, 
were not unworthy of, nor unequal to, so 
high a trust. 

Towering above all these men of might, 
in his world-wide fame and in the genius 
of his personal ascendency, was Washing- 
ton, intrusted by the commonwealth of 
Virginia with the work of cementing to- 
gether the sisterhood of states in one in- 
dissoluble bond of mutual interest, co-ope- 
ration, and renown. And there was Kufus 
King, from Massachusetts, young in years, 
but mature in wisdom and brilliant in ora- 
tory; Langdon, from New Hampshire, 
strong in his understanding and readily 
mastering the most intricate details ; El- 
bridge Gerry, of Massachusetts, exhibiting 
the utmost zeal and fidelity in the per- 
formance of his official duties; Caleb 
Strong, from the same state, plain in his 



FORMATION OF THE CONSTITUTION. 



79 







COXVEXTIOX AT PHILADELPHIA, 1TS7 



appearance, but calm, firm, intelligent, and 
well-balanced ; Ellsworth, from Connecti- 
cut, elegant in his manners, and distin- 
guished for his energy of mind, clear 
reasoning powers, and effective eloquence ; 
Sherman, his colleague, a statesman and 
jurist whose fame has extended far beyond 
the western world; Hamilton, from New 
York, spare and fragile in person, but 
keen, active, laborious, transcendent in 
his abilities and of unsullied integrity; 
Livingston, from New Jersey, of scholarly 
tastes, uncompromisingly republican in his 
politics, and fearless in the expression of 
his opinions ; Franklin, from Pennsylvania, 
one of the profoundest philosophers in the 
world, and, though now rising of four- 
score years, capable of grasping and throw- 
ing light upon the most recondite ques- 
tions relating to the science of govern- 
ment ; Robert Morris, from Pennsylvania, 
the great financier, of whom it has been 
said, and witli much truth, that 'the 
Americans owed, and still owe, as mucli 
acknowledgment to the financial operations 
of Robert Morris, as to the negotiations of 



Benjamin Franklin, or even to the arms 
of George Washington ; ' Gouverneur 
IMorris, from the same state, conspicuous 
for his accomplishments in learning, his 
fluent conversation, and sterling abilities 
in debate ; Clymer, distinguished among 
the sons of Pennsylvania, as one of the 
first to raise a defiant voice against the 
arbitrary acts of the mother country ; 
Mifflin, another delegate from the land of 
Penn, ardent almost beyond discretion, in 
zeal for his country's rights and liberties ; 
Dickinson, from New Jersey, a patriot, 
who, though the only member of the con- 
tinental congress opposed to the Declara- 
tion of Independence, on the ground of its 
being premature, was nevertheless the only 
member of that body who immediately 
shouldered his musket and went forth to 
face the enemy ; Wj'the, from Virginia, 
wise, grave, deeply versed in the law, and 
undaunted in the defense of liberty for the 
the people; Madison, also from Virginia, 
talented, thoughtful, penetrating, one of 
the brightest ornaments of his state and 
nation; Martin, from Maryland, a jurist 



80 



FORMATION OF THE CONSTITUTION. 



of vast attainments and commanding 
powers; Davie, from Nortli Carolina, of 
splendid physique, one of the master-minds 
of the country ; Rutledge, from South Car- 
olina«, pronounced by Washington to be 
the finest orator in the continental con- 
gress; Pinckne}^, from the same state, 
a soldier and lawyer of vmrivaled abili- 
ties; — and thus the record might go on, 
until it embraced all the names of this 
eminent assemblage of America's noblest 
patriots and most illustrious historic char- 
acters, " all, all, honorable men." 

On proceeding with the organization of 
the convention, George Wasliington was 
nominated by Robert Morris to jjreside 
over its deliberations, and was unanimously 
elected. The standing rules were then 
adopted, one of these being that nothing 
spoken in the house be printed or other- 
wise published, or made known in any 
manner, without special permission. And 
in this connection, the following little epi- 
sode, which lias come to light, will doubt- 
less be read as a refreshing reminiscence 
of the "secret" doings among those grave 
old worthies : 

One of the members of the Georgia del- 
egation was Mr. , a gentleman, the 

zeal of whose legislative mind and efforts 
sometimes quite ate up his attention to 
mere extraneous matters. Like all the 
rest of his associates in the assembly, he 
had been furnished with a schedule of the 
principal points of debate, or subjects of 
consideration, which were to be brought 
before the convention as constituting its 
business, and, in accordance with the par- 
liamentary usage of secrecy, this pro- 
gramme of the convention's duties and 
deliberations was with especial care to be 
kept from disclosure during the period of 
its sittings. It happened, liowever, that 
one of the delegates unfortunately lost his 
copy of this official schedule or orders of 
the day. General MitHin, one of the del- 
egates from Pennsylvania, bj' good chance 
discovered the stray document, and, ex- 
plaining the circumstances to Washing- 
ton, placed it in the latter's hands, who, 
in silence and gravity, deposited it among 



his own papers. At the close of that day's 
proceedings, and just previously to the 
convention's rising, Washington, as pre- 
siding officer, called the attention of the 
assembly to the matter in question, in the 
following characteristic remarks : 

" Gentlemen, I am sorry to find that 
some one member of this bod3- has been so 
neglectful of the secrets of this convention, 
as to drop in the state house a cop}' of 
their proceedings — which, by accident, was 
picked up and delivered to me this morn- 
ing. I must entreat gentlemen to be 
more careful, lest our transactions get into 
the newspapers, and disturb the public 
repose by premature speculations. I know 
not whose paper it is, but there it is 
(throwing it down on the table) ; let him 
who owns it take it." 

But to proceed with the historical 
sketch of this most august body of modern 
legislators. 

They had been appointed merely with a 
view to the revision or improvement of the 
old articles of confederation, which still 
held them precariously together as a na- 
tion ; yet they had not deliberated long, 
when they determined that the existing 
compact or system of government must be 
swept awaj'. The question, however, as to 
what should be substituted in its place, was 
one of extreme difficulty. Mr. Randolph, of 
Virginia, opened the great discussion by a 
speech in which he laid bare the defects of 
the confederation, and then submitted a 
series of resolutions embod3'ing the sub- 
stance of a plan of government — the same, 
in character, as that contained in letters 
written by ^Ir. Madison to Mr. Jefferson, 
Mr. Randolph, and General Washington, 
a few months previous. 

The plan in question proposed the form- 
ation of a general government, consti- 
tuted as follows : The national legislature 
to consist of two branches — the members 
of the first branch to be elected by the 
people of the several states, and the 
members of the second branch to be elected 
by the first branch, out of a proper number 
nominated by the state legislatures; the 
national legislature to have a negative on 



FOEMATION OF THE CONSTITUTION. 



81 



all the state laws contravening the articles 
of union, and to have power to legislate in 
all cases where the states were incompe- 
tent ; the right of suffrage in the legisla^ 
ture to be jjroportioned to the quota of 
contribution, or to the number of free in- 
liabitants ; a national executive to be 
chosen by the national legislature ; a na- 
tional judiciary, to consist of one or more 
supreme tribunals and inferior ones, the 
judges to be chosen by the national legis- 
lature ; the executive, and a convenient 
number of the national judiciary, to com- 




WW: 



FltAXKLlN FLEADIKG FOR PACIFICATION. 

pose a council of revision to examine every 
act of the national legislature before it 
should operate, and every act of a particu- 
lar legislature before a negative thereon 
should be final ; provision to be made for 
the admission of new states to the Union ; 
a republican form of government to be 
administered in each state ; provision to 
be made for amendments to the articles of 
union ; the legislative, executive, and judi- 
ciary powers, or officials, of the several 
states, to be bound by oath to support the 

articles of union. 

(i 



A good degree of favor was shown to 
Mr. Kandolph's plan, but not sufficient to 
prevent other projects, conspicuous among 
these being one by Mr. Patterson, of New 
Jersey, and another by Alexander Hamil- 
ton, from being brought forward and urged 
by their respective friends, — all of these 
being republican in their general features, 
but differing in their details. 

For some da3-s, angry debates occurred 
which, but for the tlmehj and healiny 
wisdom of Dr. Franklm, the Mentor of 
the convention, would have ended in the 
breaking up of the body. As soon 
as there was an opening for him to 
speak, the doctor rose, and in a most 
impressive manner, said, among 
ether things : 

" It is to be feared that the mem- 
bers of this convention are not in a 
temper, at this moment, to approach 
the subject on which we differ, in 
a candid spirit. I would therefore 
propose, Mr. President, that, without 
proceeding further in this business 
at this time, the convention shall 
adjourn for three daj'S, in order to let 
the present ferment pass off, and to 
afford time for a more full, free, and 
dispassionate investigation of the 
subject ; and I would earnestly rec- 
ommend to the members of this con- 
^ vention, that they spend the time of 

this recess, not in associating with 
their own part}', and devising new 
arguments to fortify themselves in 
their ol<l opinions, but that tliey mix 
with members of opposite senti- 
ments, lend a patient ear to their reason- 
ings, and candidly allow them all the 
weight to which they may be entitled; 
and when we assemble again, I hope it will 
be with a determination to form a consti- 
tution ; if not such an one as we can indi- 
vidually, and in all respects, approve, yet 
the best which, under existing circum- 
stances, can be obtained." (Here the 
countenance of Washington brightened, 
and a cheering ray seemed to break in 
upon the gloom of the assembly.) The 
doctor continued: 



FORMATION OF THE CONSTITUTION. 



"Before I sit down, Mr. President, I 
will suggest another matter ; and I am 
really surprised that it has not been pro- 
posed by some other member, at an earlier 
period of our deliberations. I will sug- 
gest, Mr. President, the propriety of nom- 
inating and appointing, before we separate, 
a chaplain to this convention, whose duty 
it shall be uniformly to assemble with us, 
and introduce the business of each day by 
imploring the assistance of Heaven, and 
its blessing upon our deliberations." 

The doctor sat down, and never did a 
countenance appear at once so dignified 
and so delighted as that of Washington, 
at the close of this address. The motion 
for appointing a chaplain was instantly 
seconded and carried. The convention 
also chose a committee, by ballot, consist- 
ing of one from each state, to sit during the 
recess, and then adjourned for three days. 

The three days were spent in the 
manner advised by Doctor Franklin. On 
re-assembling, the chaplain appeared and 
led the devotions of the assembly, and the 
minutes of the last sitting were read. All 
eyes were now turned to the venerable 
doctor. He rose, and in a few words 
t-tated, that during the recess he had list- 
ened attentively to all the arguments, pco 
and coil, which had been urged by both 
^ides of the house ; that he had himself 
said much, and thought more, on the sub- 
ject ; he saw difficulties and objections, 
which might be urged by individual states, 
against every scheme which had been pro- 
posed ; and he was now, more than ever, 
convinced that the constitution which they 
were about to form, in order to be just and 
equal, must be formed on the basis of 
compromise and mutual concession. With 
such views and feelings, he would now 
move a reconsideration of the vote last 
taken on the organization of the senate. 
The motion was seconded, the vote carried, 
the former vote rescinded, and by a suc- 
cessive motion and resolution, the senate 
was organized on the present plan. 

On the seventeenth of September, the 
final debate closed, the last amendment was 
adopted, and the result of the convention's 



labors was the formation of a constitution 
establishing a national government on the 
following prescribed principles : That the 
affairs of the people of the United States 
were thenceforth to be administered, not 
by a confederacy, or mere league of friend- 
ship between the sovereign states, but by 
a government, distributed into the three 
great departments — legislative, judicial, 
and executive ; that the powers of govern- 
ment should be limited to concerns per- 
taining to the whole people, leaving the 
internal administration of each state, in 
time of peace, to its own constitution and 
laws, provided that they should be repub- 
lican, and interfering with them as little 
as jjossible in case of war ; that the legis- 
lative power of this government should be 
divided between the two assemblies, one 
representing directly the people of the 
separate states, and the other their legisla- 
tures ; that the executive power of this 
government should be vested in one person 
chosen for four j-ears, with certain quali- 
fications of age and nativity, and invested 
with a qualified negative upon the enact- 
ment of the laws; and that the judicial 
power should consist of tribunals inferior 
and supreme, to be instituted and organ- 
ized by congress, the judges removable 
only by impeachment. 

Thus, finally amended, the constitution 
was signed by all the members present, 
except by Messrs. Randolph and Mason, of 
Virginia, and Gerry, of Massachusetts. 
The scene is described as one of historic 
solemnity, rising almost to the sublime. 
When Washington, whose turn came first, 
was about to sign the instrument ordained 
to be henceforth — if ratified by the several 
states — the palladium of his country's na- 
tional existence, and the formation of 
which he had watched over with such 
anxious solicitude, he rose from his seat, 
and holding the pen in his hand, after a 
short pause, pronounced these words : 

"Should the states reject this excellent 
Constitution, the probability/ is that aii op- 
portunity will never again be offered to 
cancel another in peace — the next will be 
drawn in blood." 



FORMATION OF THE CONSTITUTION. 



83 



And when, following the example of 
their illustrious leader, the other members 
of the convention appended their signa- 
tures, Doctor Franklin, with his eye fixed 
upon the presiding officer's seat, in the 
rear of which was the picture of a halo or 
sun, made the characteristic remark: 

" I have often and often, in the course 
of the session, and in the vicissitudes of 
my hopes and fears as to its issue, looked 
at that sun behind the president, without 
being able to tell whether it was rising or 
sinking ; at length I have the happiness 
to know it is a rising and not a setting 
sun." 

The convention, however, which framed 
the constitution, was not clothed with leg- 
islative power, nor was the congress of the 
confederation competent to accept it or 
reject the new form of government. It 
was referred by them to the seyeral states, 



represented by conventions of the people; 
and it was provided in the instrument it- 
self, that it should become the supreme 
law of the land, when adopted by nine 
states. It was not till the summer of 
1788 that the ratification of nine states 
was obtained, beginning with Delaware, 
some by large, and some by very small 
majorities. The violence of the opposition 
party was in some sections very great, re- 
sulting, in New York, in tumultuous riots. 
Of the thirteen original states, Rhode 
Island was the last to accept the constitu- 
tion, which she did in May, 1790. 

The year of suspense, while the Ameri- 
can people were debating the great question 
whether to accept or reject the constitu- 
tion offered them by Washington and his 
associate compatriots, was, on the an- 
nouncement of the result, succeeded by a 
national jubilee. 



IX. 



FIRST ELECTION AND INAUGURATION OF A PRESIDENT 
OF THE UNITED STATES.— 1789. 



Washington, " First in War, First in Peace, and First in the Hearts of his Countrymen," the Nation's 
Spontaneous, Unanimous Choice — His Triumphal Progress from Home, and Solemn Induction into 
Office — Jubilee throughout the Republic, over the August Event. — Auspicious Commencement of 
the National Executive Government — Requirements of the Constitution. — A President to be Chosen. 
— Four Years the Term of Service — All Eyes Fixed Upon Washington. — His Reluctance to Accept. 
— Reasons Given for this Course. — Urgent Appeals to Him. — The Result of the Election — One 
Voice and One Mind — He Bows to the People's Will. — Joy Produced by His Decision. — Departs at 
Once from Mount Vernon. — Farewell Visits to His Mother.— Inauguration Appointed for March 
Fourth. — Postponement to April Thirtieth. — Order of Ceremonies. — New Spectacle in the Western 
World. — Distinguished Celebrities Present. — Washington's Elegant Appearance. — Dignity when 
Taking the Oath. — Reverentially Kisses the Bible. — Curious Customs Initiated. 




" Where shall the eye rest, weary of sazing on the great, 
where find a glory thotisnot criminal, a pomp that is not con- 
temptible? Yes, there is a man. the first, the last, the best of 
all, the Cincinnatus of the West, whom envy itself does not 
hate. The name of Washington is bequeathed to us to make 
humanity blush that such a man is alone in history "— LOBD 
Btbon. 



CCORDING to the terms of the new 
federal constitution, which had now 
been assented to and ratified by the 
WASHINGTON'S INAUGURATION BIBLE. Tcquisite nuHiber of states, a President 

of the United States was required to be elected for a term of four years ; and, amidst 
all the discordances of political opinion respecting the merits of the constitution itself, 
there was but one sentiment throughout the country as to the man who should admin- 
ister the affairs of the government. All eyes ivere directed to Washington, and at an 
early period his correspondents endeavored to prepare his mind to gratify the expecta- 
tions of the people. Mr. Johnson, a distinguished patriot of Maryland, wrote him, 
"We can not do without .you." Indeed, he alone was believed to fill so pre-eminent a 
place in the public esteem, that he might be called to the head of the nation without 
e.^citing envy ; and he alone possessed in so unlimited a degree the confidence of the 
masses, that, under his auspices, the friends of the new political system might hope to 
see it introduced with a degree of firmness which would enable it to resist the open 
assaults and secret plots of its many enemies. 

By almost all who were on terms of intimacy with Washington, fears were enter- 
tained that his earnest desire for private life and the improvement of his vast and long- 
neglected plantations, would prevail over the wishes of the public, — an acquiescence 
in which wishes was believed to be absolutely essential to the completion of that great 
work, the Constitution, on which the grandeur and happiness of America was deemed to 



FIRST ELECTION OF A PRESIDENT. 



85 



depend. The struggle, on his part, be- 
tween inclination and duty, was long and 
severe, as is evident by the letters which he 
wrote on the subject, in response to the ap- 
peals and importunities constantly made by 
his friends. Colonel Lee, then a distin- 
guished member of congress, communicat- 
ing to Washington the measures which that 
body were adopting to introduce the govern- 
ment just ordained, thus alludes to the 
presidency : " Without you, the govern- 
ment can have but little chance of success ; 
and the people, of that happiness which 
its prosperity must yield." So, also, Mr. 
Gouverneur Morris, a patriot who had been 
one of the most valuable members of con- 
gress during a great part of the war, and 
who had performed a splendid part in the 
general convention, wrote : " I have ever 
thought, and have ever said that you must 
be the president ; no other man can fill 
that office." The great Hamilton likewise 
urged him to accept the office, and thus 
yield to the general call of the country in 
relation to its new and untried govern- 
ment. " You will permit me to say," 
wrote Hamilton, " that it is indispensable 
you should lend j'ourself to its first opera- 
tions. It is to little purpose to have in- 
troduced a system, if the weightiest influ- 
ence is not given to its firm establishment 
at the outset." Such arguments and en- 
treaties as these poured in upon Washing- 
ton from all quarters of the broad land, 
that he should consent to assume the pres- 
idential chair. 

But the election had taken place, in 
obedience to the fundamental law ; and at 
length, the votes for the president and 
vice-president of the United States were, 
as prescribed in the constitution, opened 
and counted in the senate. The result 
showed, that neither the animosity of par- 
ties, nor the activity of the enemies of the 
newly-formed government, could deprive 
General Washington of a single vote in 
the electoral college. By the voluntary 
and spontaneous voice of a great people, 
he w.as called to the chief magistracy of 
the nation. The second number of votes 
was given to ilr. John Adams, of Massa- 



chusetts. George Washington and John 
Adams were therefore declared to be duly 
elected president and vice-president of the 
United States, to serve for four years from 
the fourth of March, 1789. 

At Mount Vernon, on the fourteenth of 
April, 1789, tlie appointment of General 
Washington as supreme executive of the 
republic was officially announced to him. 
This commission was performed by Mr. 
Charles Thomson, secretary of the late 
congress, who presented to him a certifi- 
cate signed by John Langdon, president 
pro tempore, of the senate, stating that he 
was unanimously elected. 

Accustomed to respect the wishes of his 
fellow-citizens, Washington did not think 
himself at liberty to decline an office con- 
ferred upon him by the unsought suffrage 
of an entire people. His acceptance of it, 
and the expressions of gratitude he in- 
dulged in for this fresh proof of the esteem 
and confidence of his country, were min- 
gled with declarations of extreme diffidence 
in himself. '• I wish," he said, " that there 
may not be reason for regretting the 
choice, for, indeed, all I can promise is, 
to accomplish that which can be done by 
an honest zeal." In this spirit of devoted 
self-sacrifice, and realizing that the ur- 
gency of public affairs must require the 
immediate attendance of the president at 
the seat of government, he hastened his 
departure ; on the sixteenth of April, 
therefore, — the second day after receiving 
the certificate of his election, — he bade 
adieu to Mount Vernon, to private life, 
and to domestic felicity, and, in company 
with Mr. Thomson and Colonel Hura- 
phrej's, proceeded to New York, where 
congress was then in session, to assume 
the administration of the new government. 
But, notwithstanding the weight of anxi- 
ety upon his mind concerning the public 
business, he did not omit to pay a parting 
visit to his venerable mother. Embracing 
his mother, Washington bowed his head 
upon her shoulder and wept, murmuring 
at the same time something of a hope that 
they should meet again. "No, George," 
she replied, " this is our last parting ; my 



86 



FIEST ELECTION OF A PRESIDENT. 



days to come are few. But go, fulfill j'our town, where the whole population turned 
high duties, and may God bless and keep out to do him honor. And thus it was, 
you." She was then afflicted with a that, notwithstanding Washington wished 




cancer, of which she died in her eighty- 
second year. 

Leaving Alexandria, he was accompa- 
nied by a throng of citizens to George- 



to mate a private journej', his desire could 
not be gratified. The public feelings were 
too strong to be suppressed. Crowds 
flocked around him enthusiastically wlier- 



FIRST ELECTION OF A PEESIDENT. 



87 



ever he stopped ; and corpi; of militia, and 
processions of citizens, attended him 
through their respective states. At Pllil- 
adelphia, he was received by a concourse 
of the most distinguished personages of 
the city and state, and followed by thou- 
sands of people to a grand banquet, pre- 
pared for the occasion, where addresses 
and sentiments were interchanged, while 
the air was filled with the shouts of popu- 
lar exultation, and with one universal 
acclaim, invoking blessings upon him. As 
he crossed the Schuylkill, a civic crown of 
laurel was, unperceived by him, let down 
upon his head by a youth who was con- 
cealed in the arch of evergreen which dec- 
orated the bridge. At night, the whole 
town was brilliantly illuminated, and iiU 
classes and ages spontaneously united in 
the happy festivities. 

The next day, at Trenton, he was wel- 
comed in a manner exceedingly novel and 
touching. In addition to the usual dem- 
onstrations of respect and attachment, 
which were given by the discharge of 
cannon, by military corps, and by private 
persons of distinction, the gentler sex pre- 
pared, in their own taste, a most unique 
tribute of their regard, indicative of the 
grateful recollection in which they held 
their deliverance twelve years before from 
an insulting enemy. On the bridge ex- 
tending across the stream which passes 
through the town, — the place where Wash- 
ington, atone time, made so gallant a sur- 
prise on the enemy of his country, and at 
another, so important a stand, and a re- 
treat worth more than a victory, — a tri- 
umphal arch was erected, with evergreen 
and floral adornments, and supported by 
thirteen pillars similarly enwreathed. On 
the front was inscribed, in large golden 
letters: 'The Defexder of the Moth- 
ers WILL BE THE PROTECTOR OF THE 

Daughters.' Over this, in the center of 
the arch, above the inscription, was a 
dome or cupola of evergreens and flowers 
encircling the dates of two memorable 
events, one of these being the bold and 
judicious stand made by the American 
troops, by which the progress of the Brit- 



ish army was arrested on the evening pre- 
ceding the battle of Princeton ; the other 
was the date of Washington's glorious 
victory at Trenton, when nine hundred 
Hessians were made prisoners, and the 
horizon of American affairs was illumined 
by a r.adiance which never again wholly 
forsook it. On the summit of the arch a 
large sun-flower, as always pointing to the 
sun, was designed to express this motto, — 
' To You Alone.' The ladies had ar- 
ranged themselves on the side of the 
street, between the arch and the town, 
with their daughters in front, to a very 
considerable number, all dressed in white, 
and decorated with floral wreaths and 
chaplets. Six of these held baskets of 
flowers in their hands, and, as soon as the 
general had passed under the arch, the 
beautiful choristers advanced, singing a 
sonnet composed for the occasion ; as they 
sung the last lines they strewed the flowers 
before the general. 

At Brunswick, he was joined by Gov- 
ernor William Livingston, of New Jersey, 
who accompanied him to Elizabethtown 
Point. On the road, the committee of 
congress received and attended him with 
much military parade to the point where 
he was to embark for New York. The 
embarkation took place in a magnificently- 
decorated barge, manned and rowed by 
thirteen branch pilots, attired in white. 
There were also other barges, filled with 
eminent dignitaries from all parts of the 
land. 

Arriving at New York, the president 
was received bj' the governor of the state, 
and by an immense concourse of citizens, 
headed by the military. Multitudes of his 
old and faithful officers and fellow-patriots 
pressed around him to offer their congrat- 
ulations, and to express the joy which 
glowed in their bosoms at seeing the man 
in whom all confided, at the head of the 
nation's affairs. 

Thus it appears that the president's first 
arrival at the seat of government was a 
national ovation which showed, by its 
spontaneousness, enthusiasm, and unanim- 
ity, that all hearts and voices were united 



88 



FIRST ELECTION OF A PRESIDENT. 



in his favor. It was an occasion which 
excited the great lieart of the people be- 
yond all powers of description ; the hand 
of industry was suspended, and the various 
pleasures of the capital were centered in a 
single and universal enjoyment. Many 
aged patriots were heard to say that they 
should now die contented, having had a 
sight of the Father of his Country. 




PRESIDENTIAL MANSION, 1789. 

The fourth of March was the day which 
had been appointed for the new national 
government to commence operations, but 
so many impediments occurred that it was 
not until the thirtieth of April that this 
took place. 

Vice-president Adams arrived in New 
York, escorted by a troop of horse, on the 
twenty-first of April, and, two days before 
Washington's arrival, took his seat as the 
constitutional presiding officer of the 
senate. On doing this, he addressed that 
body in a dignified speech adapted to the 
occasion, and warmly eulogistic of the 
new-born republic and its illustrious chief 
magistrate. 

On Thursdaj', the thirtieth of April, 
1789, the ceremony of Inaugurating the 
First President of the United States took 
place in New York, which at that time 
was the federal capital. Long before the 
hour arrived, the town swarmed with 
people ; every tavern and boarding-house 
was full, and private residences teemed 
with guests and lodgers. Many persons 
are said to have slept in tents on 'the 
Common.' The Hudson was studded with 
boats bearing visitors, and long caravans 
of carts began to arrive before daybreak, 
from Westchester, Long Island, and the 
Jersej-s. The ceremony of the day was 



ushered in by a salute fired from the bat- 
tery. This was about six o'clock in the 
morning, and, even at this early hour, the 
streets were fast filling up. At nine, the 
church bells rang out a merry peal ; at ten 
they summoned the worshipers to church, 
each pastor devoting the occasion to im- 
ploring Heaven's blessing upon the nation 
and the first president. General Wash- 
ington had now been in the city a week, 
having arrived on the twenty-third. He 
was living in a private liouse, the prop- 
erty of Mr. Osgood, on the corner of 
Cherry street and Franklin square ; but 
his household arrangements had not yet 
been perfected, as Mrs. W^ashington did 
not arrive for some little time, remaining 
at Mount Vernon until affairs were in a 
state of readiness for her presence at the 
new presidential mansion. 

At eight o'clock, on this memorable 
morning, the sky was overcast, and the 
appearance was that of a gathering storm. 
Everybody noticed, however, that the mo- 
ment the bells began to ring the sky 
cleared, and by the close of divine service 
the weather was serene and beautiful. At 
noon, the procession that was to conduct 
the president to Federal liall assembled 
in due style opposite his residence in 
Cherry street. There were the usual mil- 
itary companies — a troop of horse, one or 
two companies of grenadiers, a company of 
Highlanders, in kilts, — all the chief mu- 
niciiJal officers, the congressional commit- 




I'KKSILIENTIAL MANSION, 1876. 

tees, and the new cabinet, — multitudes of 
distinguished citizens bringing up the 
rear. By this assemblage the new presi- 
dent was escorted to Federal hall, which 
stood at the head of Broad street, in Wall^ 



u ,r,' 



■^.CTION OF A PRESIDENT. 



89 



•where the ciistom-hoi. ntly 

built. The old building 'n 

repair at a considerable t 
was still so rickety that caui 
looked forward to the ceremony 
easiness. The procession having ar. /ed, 
and the hall occupied according to the pro- 
gramme, nothing remained but to proceed 
with the solemn formalities ; and, when it 
is remembered that there was no precedent 
in history for the inauguration of a repub- 
lican president, one can not but admire the 
striking dignity which characterized the 
whole occasion. At the door of the senate 
chamber, to which the eyes of the whole 
vast multitude were intensely directed, the 
vice-president met General Washington, 
and with consummate but unaffected ease 
and grace of manner said — 

" Sir, the senate and house of represent- 
atives of the United States are ready to 
attend you to take the oath required by 
the Constitution, luhich will he adminis- 
tered to you, by the chaticellor of the state 
of New York." 

^' I am ready to proceed," was Washing- 
ton's reply, made with his accustomed 
elegant dignity. 

The vice-president now led the way to 
the outside gallery ; the president fol- 
lowed, with as many of the high function- 
aries as could find room, and all were pres- 
ently gathered on the balcony fronting on 
Wall street. Of the group, perhaps the 
most striking person was Chancellor Liv- 
ingston, in a full suit of black, and, like 
Washington, one of the finest-looking men 
anywhere to be seen. Secretarj' Otis car- 
ried the Bible on a crimson cushion, and 
near him were Generals Knox and St. 
Clair, Roger Sherman, Hamilton, and 
other noted persons of revolutionary fame. 
At the proper moment, the chancellor ad- 
ministered the oath, with great delibera^ 
tion and emphasis, to Washington, who, 
bowing down, seized the book, kissed it, 
and exclaimed, with closed eyes and much 
emotion — 

" I swear, so help me God!" 

"It is done," the chancellor declared, 
and, turning to the crowd exclaimed. 



" Long live George Washington, President 
of the United States!" 

This last-named declaration, on the part 
of the chancellor, was in imitation of mo- 
narchical custom. The error of this prac- 
tice was, however, soon exposed and 
abandoned; but at this time, the crowd 
thought of nothing but the exciting solem- 
nity of the scene, and man}' who demon- 
stratively waved their hats were too 
overcome bj' emotion to join in the huzzas. 

Of course, Washington was the observed 
of all observers in that mighty crowd, and 
his grandly-commanding figure made this 
both natural and easy, and so too did the 
construction of the balconj', conspicuously 
fronting the edifice, where the remarkable 
ceremony was performed. He was dressed 
in a complete suit of dark brown broad- 
cloth, of American production, white silk 
long stockings, silver shoe-buckles upon 
his polished shoes, a steel-hilted dress 
sword, and his hair dressed and powdered 
according to the style then in vogue, and 
gathered up in a bag. This attire, it may 
be remarked, was Washington's personal 
choice. On the occasion of his second in- 
auguration, however, Washington was 
dressed precisely as Stuart has painted 
him in Lord Lansdowne's full-length por- 
trait — in a full suit of the richest black 
velvet, with diamond knee-buckles, and 
square silver buckles set upon shoes ja- 
panned with the most scrupulous neatness, 
black silk stockings, his shirt ruffled at the 
breast and wrists, a light dress-sword; his 
hair profusely powdered, fully dressed, so 
as to project at the sides, and gathered be- 
hind in a silk bag, ornamented with a 
large rose of black ribbon. He held his 
cocked hat, which had a large black cock- 
ade on one side of it, in his hand, while 
standing, but laid it on the table when he 
sat down. 

Washington, on taking the oath, as ad- 
ministered by Chancellor Livingston, is 
said to have laid his hand upon that page 
of the Bible containing the fiftieth chapter 
of Genesis, opposite to which were two 
illustrations of the text, one being a pic- 
ture of ' The Blessing of Zebulon,' and the 



90 



FIEST ELECTION OF A PRESIDENT. 



other of ' The Prophecy of Issachar.' That 
memorable volume, of such peculiar his- 
torical associations, now belongs to one of 
the masonic lodges in New York. Upon 
each of the two outside surfaces of the vol- 
ume, there is engraved in golden letters a 
commemorative record of the interesting 
circumstances attaching to it ; and on the 
inside, beautifully written upon parch- 
ment, in ornamental style, surmounted by 
an engraved portrait of Washington, is 
the following statement : 

'On this Sacred Volume, on the 30th day 
of April, 1789, in the city of New York, 
■was administered to George Washington 
the first President of the United States of 
America, the oatli to support the Constitu- 
tion of the United States. This important 
ceremony was performed by the Most 
Worshipful Grand Master of Free and 
Accepted Masons of the state of New 
York, the Honorable Robert R Livings- 
ton, Chancellor of the state.' 

The inaugural address delivered by 
Washington, and which, like all the early 
inaugurals, possessed the merit of brevity, 
was pronounced in the senate chamber. It 
was considered, in those days, a speech to 
congress and not to the people ; and both 
houses felt it incumbent on them — follow- 
ing the usage of monarchies, — to present 
replies to the president, at his residence. 

From the senate chamber, the president 
■was escorted to St. Paul's church, where 
he heard an appropriate religious service, 
conducted by Dr. Prevost; and thence 
home to his house. In the evening the 
whole city was one blaze of illumination, 
all classes participating in this attractive 



feature of the general jubilee. Many of 
the illuminations were very beautiful — 
none more so than those of the French and 
Spanish ministers, who both lived in 
Broadway, near the Bowling Green ; and 
the whole scene was unique, animated, and 
enchanting. General Washington him- 
self went 'down town,' that is to say, 
toward the Battery, to see the spectacle, of 
which he expressed the warmest admira- 
tion ; returning about ten o'clock on foot, 
the crowd being too dense for a carriage 
to pass. 

As the supreme head of the nation. 
President Washington at once endeavored 
to acquaint himself fully with the state of 
public affairs, and for this jnirpose, he 
called upon those who had been the heads 
of departments under the confederation, to 
report to him the situation of their respec- 
tive concerns. He also, having consulted 
with his friends, adopted a system for the 
order of his own household, for the regu- 
lation of his hours of business, and of in- 
tercourse with those who, in a formal 
manner, visited him as the chief magis- 
trate of the nation. But he publicly an- 
nounced that neither visits of business nor 
of ceremony would be expected on Sunday, 
as he wished to reserve that day sacredly 
to himself. One of the most important 
and delicate of the president's duties was 
to fill those departments which congress at 
an early day had established to aid the 
executive in the administration of the 
government. His judgment and prudence 
were consistently exhibited in this respect, 
by his selecting such able men for his 
cabinet. 



GREATEST DEFEAT AND VICTORY OF AMERICAN ARMS 
IN THE INDIAN WARS.— 1791. 



Headlong Flight and Destruction of St. Clair's Arm}', in 1791, Before the Trained Warriors of "Lit- 
tle Turtle." — This Mortifying Disaster Retrieved by Wayne's Overwhelming Triumph in 1794. — Final 
and Crushing Blow Dealt by Jackson, in 1814. — The Question of Power Between the Two Races For- 
ever settled in Favor of the Whites. — Old Feuds Between the Races — Ilarmer's Expedition to the 
North-west. — Powerless in Ambush Warfare. — Repeated and Bloody Reverses. — St. Clair put in Com- 
mand. — Warning Words of Washington. — Sudden Attack by the Miamis. — Terrible Slaughter of the 
■\yiiites. — Overthrow of the Whole Campaign. — Washington's Reception of the News. — His Appall- 
ing Wrath. — Sketch of St. Clair's Conqueror. — His Fame at Home and Abroad. — General Wayne 
Sent to the Field. — Unsuccessfully Proffers Peace. — Instantly Prepares for Battle. — Great Army of 
Indian Warriors —Their Sagacious Choice of Position. — Desperate Fury of the Conflict. — Wayne's 
Prowess Irresistible. — Death Knell of the Savages. — Their Confederacy Shattered. 



" Nothing but lamentable flountli was heard. 
Nor au;;ht was Been but ehastly views of death 
Ititeetions horror ran from face to face, 
And pale despair." 




LL historians agree in declaring that the 
defeat of General St. Clair, in 1791, by 
the Indians of the north-west territory, 



92 



GREATEST BATTLES IN THE INDIAN WARS. 



was the most signal and disastrous ever 
sustained by tlie American army, in its 
battles with the warriors of the forest. 

On the other hand, this defeat — the 
news of which fell like a thunderbolt upon 
the then struggling and distracted govern- 
ment, — was retrieved by a most complete 
and decisive victor^-, under General 
Wayne, over these same tribes, collected 
together in a vast and powerful horde, at 
the rapids of the Maumee, in 1794 ; a vic- 
tory which, taken in connection with the 
subsequent overwhelming triumph of Gen- 
eral Jackson, in his campaign against the 
Creeks, gave the finishing stroke to the 
power of the Indian race in North Amer- 
ica, — settling forever the long struggle 
that had been carried on between the white 
man and the red man, in favor of the 
former, though the warlike propensities of 
the savages occasionally broke out in sub- 
sequent years, as in 1811, under Tecum- 
seh ; the Creek war, of 1814, under 
Weatherford ; the terrible Seminole cam- 
paign ; the Cherokee contest ; the hostili- 
ties of the Sacs, Foxes, and Winnebagoes, 
under Black Hawk ; the renowned Flor- 
ida war, of 1835, under Micanopy and Os- 
ceola ; etc. These later wars tasked, to 
the utmost, the military skill of such 
trained soldiers as Jackson, Harrison, 
Worth, Harney, Jessup, Clinch, Thomp- 
son, Dade, Atkinson, Gaines, Ta^'lor. Red 
Jacket, and Cornplanter, were prominent 
chieftains in the wars of the Senecas. 

In the month of September, 1790, Gen- 
eral Harmer was intrusted with the import- 
ant duty of looking after the fierce tribes 
on the Miami and Wabash, between whom 
and the Kentuckians there had long waged 
a relentless war. The general went for- 
ward with a body of three hundred and 
twenty regulars, who, being re-enforced by 
the militia of Pennsylvania and Kentucky, 
formed a corps of one thousand four hun- 
dred and fift3'-three men. The Indians, 
on his approach, set fire to their villages; 
but this was nothing, unless they could be 
brought to an engagement. Harmer, 
however, instead of advancing himself, 
with the main body, sent forward Colonel 



Hardin, with two hundred and ten men, 
of whom only thirty were regulars. They 
were attacked ; the militia fled ; the others 
were nearly cut off. The general then 
sent forward Hardin, with three hundred 
men, who speedily encountered another 
large bodj'. After a brave contest, in 
which this party lost nearly half their 
number, they retreated on the main body. 
Thus disaster followed disaster, and the 
nation became sore and mortified under 
such repeated humiliations. 

One of the last measures, therefore, 
adopted by the United States congress, 
the ensuing year, 1791, was to augment 
the national military force, to a suitable 
degree of power, and to place in the hands 
of President Washington more ample 
means for the protection of the frontier, as 
the Indians on the north-west side of the 
Ohio still continued their hostilities. A 
new expedition against the belligerent 
tribes had, in consequence, been projected ; 
and General St. Clair, then governor of 
the territory west of the Ohio, was ap- 
pointed commander of the forces to be em- 
ploj'ed. Washington had been deeply 
chagrined by the mortifj'ing disasters of 
General Harmer's expedition to the Wa- 
bash, resulting from Indian ambushes. 
In taking leave, therefore, of his old mili- 
tary comrade, St. Clair, he wished him 
success and honor, and added this solemn 
warning : 

" You have j'our instructions from the 
secretarj' of war. I had a strict eye to 
them, and will add but one word, — Be- 
ware of a surprise ! You know how the 
Indians fight. I repeat it — Bnvare of a 
surprise ! " 

With these warning words sounding in 
his ear, fresh with W^ashington's awful 
emphasis, St. Clair departed. 

On the fourth of November, while the 
main body of St. Clair's army were en- 
camped in two lines on rising ground, 
some fifteen miles south of the Miami vil- 
lages on one of the tributaries of the Wa- 
bash, and the militia upon a high flat on 
the other side of the stream, they were 
surprised and terribly attacked by an In- 



GREATEST BATTLES IN THE INDIAN WARS. 



93 



(lian force which lay concealed in the 
woods. General St. Clair, who was suffer- 
in <t severely from gout, was unable to 
mount his horse, and had to be carried 
about in a litter, from -vhich he gave his 
orders with discretion and the most perfect 
coolness. The battle raged fearfully for 
nearly three hours, and after nearly lialf 
of his army had been slaughtered, St. Clair 
beat a headlong retreat. Thus were all 
the plans, hopes and labors of President 
Washington, congress, and the cabinet, in 
reference to the Indian campaign, utterly 
and deplorably overthrown in a single 
day ! This result is stated to have arisen 
thus : On the third of November, St. Clair 
formed his force into two lines ; the first, 
under the command of General Butler, 
composed the right wing, and lay with a 
creek immediately in their front. The 
left wing, commanded by Colonel Darke, 
formed the second, and lay with an inter- 
val of about seventy yards between them 
and the first line. The militia were ad- 
vanced bej'ond the creek, about a quarter 
of a mile in front. About half an hour 
before sunrise the next morning, just after 
the troops had been dismissed from the 
parade, an unexpected attack was made 
upon the militia, who fled in the utmost 
confusion, and rushing into camp through 
the first line of regular troops, which had 



been formed the instant the first gun was 
discharged, threw them too into disorder. 
Such was the panic, and so rapid and irreg- 
ular the flight, that the exertions of the 
ofiicers to recall the men to their senses 
and to duty were quite unavailing. 

It was soon perceived that the American 
fire could produce, on a concealed enemy, 
no considerable effect, and that the only 
hope of victory was in the baj'onet. At 
the head of the second regiment, which 
formed the left of the left wing, Darke 
made an impetuous charge upon the 
enemy, forced them from their ground 
with some loss, and drove them about four 
hundred j-ards. He was followed by that 
whole wing ; but the want of a sufficient 
number of riflemen to press this advan- 
tage, deprived him of its benefit, and, a.i 
soon as he gave over the pursuit, the In- 
dians renewed the attack. In the mean- 
time, General Butler was mortally 




"VVAYNK 3 DKKKAr OK IHK INDIA?<S. 



94 



GREATEST BATTLES IN THE INDIAN WAKS. 



wounded, the left of the right wing ^vas 
broken, the artillerists almost to a man 
killed, the guns seized, and the camp pen- 
etrated by the enemy. Orders were given 
to again charge with the bayonet; this 
was done with spirit and momentary suc- 
cess, the Indians being driven out of the 
camp, and the artillery recovered. 

To save the remnant of the army was 
all that now remained to be done ; and, 
about half-past nine in the morning, Gen- 
eral St. Clair ordered Colonel Darke, with 
the second regiment, to charge a body of 
Indians who intercepted their retreat, and 
to gain the road. Major Clarke, with his 
battalion, was directed to cover the rear. 
These orders were executed, and then a 
disorderly flight commenced. The pursuit 
was kept up about four miles, when, fortu- 
nately for the surviving Americans, the 
victorious savages, eager for plunder, 
stopped at the camp of their vanquished 
foes, to divide the spoils. The routed 
troops continued their flight to Fort Jef- 
ferson — some thirty miles, — throwing 
away their arms along the road. At this 
place they met the detached regiment, and 
leaving their wounded at Fort Jefferson, 
the army continued its retreat to Fort 
Washington, the site of the present city 
of Cincinnati. 

Poor St. Clair's defeat has been aptl}' 
paralleled with that of Braddock. No 
doubt, when he realized the terrible havoc 
thai had been made, he thought sadly of 
Washington's parting words, " Beware of 
a surprise I " The manner in which the 
news of this disaster affected Washington 
is thus described by Mr. Rush : — 

Towards the close of a winter's daj', in 
December, an officer in uniform was seen 
to dismount in front of the president's 
house in Philadelphia, and, giving the 
bridle to his servant, knock at the door of 
the mansion. Learning from the porter 
that the president was at dinner, he said 
he was on public business, having dis- 
patches which he could deliver only to the 
commander-in-chief. A servant was sent 
into the dining-room to give the informa- 
tion to Mr. Lear, the president's private 



secretary, who left the table and went into 
the hall, where the officer repeated what 
he had said. Mr. Lear replied that, as 
the president's secretary, he would take 
charge of the dispatches and deliver them 
at the proper time. The officer made 
answer that he had just arrived from the 
western army, and his orders were explicit 
to deliver them with all promptitude, and 
to the president in person ; but that he 
would wait his directions. Mr. Lear re- 
turned, and in a whisper imparted to the 
president what had passed. General 
Washington rose from the table and went 
to the officer. He was back in a short 
time, made a word of apology for his ab- 
sence, but no allusion to the cause of it. 
He had company that day. Everj'thing 
went on as usual. Dinner over, the gen- 
tlemen passed to the drawing-room of Mrs. 
Washington, which was open in the even- 
ing. The general spoke courteously to 
every lady in the room, as was his custom. 
His hours were early, and by ten o'clock 
all tlie company had gone. Soon Mrs. 
Washington left the room, and the general 
and Mr. Lear remained. The chief now 
paced the room in hurried strides, and 
without speaking, for several minutes. 
Then he sat down on a sofa by the fire, 
telling Mr. Lear to sit down. He rose 
again, and, as he walked backward and 
forward, Mr. Lear saw a storm gathering. 
In the agony of his emotion, he struck his 
clenched hands with fearful force against 
his forehead, and in a paroxj'sm of anguish 
exclaimed — 

"It's all over! St. Clair's defeated— 
routed ; the officers nearly all killed — the 
men by wholesale — that brave army cut to 
pieces — the rout complete ! too shocking to 
think of — and a surprise in the bargain 1 " 

He vittered all this with great vehe- 
mence. Then he paused, and walked 
about the room several times, agitated, but 
saying nothing. Near the door he stopped 
short and stood still a few seconds ; then, 
turning to the secretary, who stood amazed 
at the spectacle of Washington in all his 
terrors, the general, in his wrath, again 
broke out, saying. 



GREATEST BATTLES IN THE INDIAN WARS. 



" Yes, sii; here, in this very room, 07i 
this verij spot, I took leave of him; I 
wished him success and honor. ' You 
have your instructions,' I said, ' from the 
secretary of war ; I had a strict eye to 
them, and will add but one word — beware 
of a surprise ! I repeat it — beware of a 
surprise! You know how the Indians 
fight us.' He went off with that as my 
last solemn warning thrown into his ears. 
And yet, to suffer that array to be cut to 
pieces, hacked by a surprise — ^the very 
thing I guarded him against ! God ! 
O God ! he's worse than a murderer ! 
How can he answer it to his country ? 
The blood of the slain is upon liim — the 
curse of widows and orphans — the curse of 
heaven ! " 

This torrent came out in tone appalling. 
His very frame shook. " It was awful ! " 





said Mr. Lear. More than once he threw 
his hands up as he hurled imprecations 
upon St. Clair. Mr. Lear remained speech- 
less — awed into breathless silence. Pres- 
ently the roused chief sat down on the 
sofa once more. He seemed conscious of 
his passion, and uncomfortable. He was 
silent ; his wrath began to subside. He 
at length said, in an altered voice, 

" This must not go bej'ond this room." 
Another pause followed — a longer one — 
when he said, in a tone quite low, 

"General St. Clair shall have justice. 
I looked hastily through the dispatches — 



saw the whole disaster, but not all the par- 
ticulars. I will he.ar him without preju- 
dice ; he shall have full justice ; yes, long, 
faithful, and meritorious services have 
their claims." 

Washington was now jierfectly calm. 
Half an hour had gone by ; the storm of 
indignation and passion was over, and no 
sign of it was afterward seen in his con- 
duct or heard in his conversation. His 
wrath on this occasion was perhaps never 
before aroused to so great a pitch, except 
when he confronted Lee, when the latter 
was retreating at the battle of Monmouth. 
St. Clair was succeeded by the brave 
General Wayne, whose successes retrieved 
the misfortunes of his predecessor, as the 
following stirring record will show. It 
will be interesting, however, to have some 
account of the character and personal ap- 
pearance of Michikiniqua, or 
" Little Turtle," the Missesago 
chief, who conquered St. Clair, 
for in no recorded battle did the 
sons of the forest ever show 
themselves better warriors, or 
achieve more renown at home 
and abroad. 

Notwithstanding his name, 
Little Turtle was at this time at 
least six feet high, strong, mus- 
cular, and remarkably dignified 
in his manners, though of a very 
sour and morose countenance, 
•.^ /? and apparently very crafty and 
subtle. He was the son of a 
Miami chief, and was forty-five 
years of age when he led his warriors 
against poor St. Clair. His warlike train- 
ing was of that stern and hardening kind 
which was never omitted in his nation. 

It was on the banks of the Miami, or 
Maumee, in 1794, that General Anthony 
Wayne, the successor of St. Clair in the 
command of the American army in the 
Miami country, dealt a retributive and 
staggering blow to the power of the In- 
dians in that vast and magnificent region, 
— a blow from which they never recovered. 
Realizing the terrible shock which the 
nation received by the defeat of St. Clair, 



96 



GREATEST BATTLES IN THE INDIAN WARS. 



the brave Wayne — " mad Anthony," as h« 
was commonly called, on account of his 
reckless courage, — at once made the best 
of his way to the theater of action, for it 
was easy to foresee, what indeed immedi- 
ately ensued, that, under the encourage- 
ment of the successes against Harmer and 
St. Clair, all the treaties would be dis- 




solved, and a general savage confederacy 
formed against the United States. 

On the eighth of August, 1794, Waj-ne 
had reached the confluence of the Au 
Glaize and the Miamis of the lakes, with- 
out opposition. The richest and most 
extensive settlements of the western In- 
dians were here. Halting at this place, 
a few days, the Americans threw up some 
works of defense. A fort had also been 
built on the St. Mary, twenty-four miles 
in advance of Fort Recovery. 

Unwilling to lose time, or to be in any 
way outwitted, Wayne moved forward on 
the fifteenth of August, and on the six- 
teenth met his messenger returning from 
tlie Indians, and bearing word from them, 
that, if the Americans would wait ten daj-s 
at Glaize, they, the Indians, would decide 
for peace or war. Wayne's only notice of 
this evasive message was to march straight 
on, arriving, on the eighteenth, at the 
rapids ; here they halted, and labored the 
next day in erecting works for the protec- 
tion of their baggage. At eight, on the 
morning of the twentieth, the American 
army moved down the north bank of the 



Maumee ; Wayne's legion was on the 
right, its flank covered by the Maumee; 
one brigade of mounted volunteers was on 
the left, under Brigadier-General Todd; 
and the other was in the rear, under Brig- 
adier-General Barbee. A selected battal- 
ion of mounted volunteers moved in front 
of the legion, commanded by Major Price, 
who was directed to keep sufiiciently ad- 
vanced, so as to give timely notice for the 
troops to form in case of action, it being 
yet undetermined whether the Indians 
would choose peace or war. 

Wayne says, in his oihcial dispatch, 
that, after advancing about five miles, 
Major Price's corps received so severe a 
fire from the enemy, wlio were secreted in 
the woods and high grass, as to compel 
them to retreat. The legion was immedi- 
ately formed into two lines, principally in 
a close thick wood, which extended for 
miles on the left, and for a very consider- 
able distance in front ; the ground was 
covered with old fallen timber, probably 
occasioned by a tornado, which rendered it 
impracticable for the cavalry to act with 
effect, and afforded tlie enemy the most 
favorable covert for their mode of warfare. 
The savages were formed in three lines, 
within supporting distance of each other, 
and extending for nearly two miles at 
right angles with the river. Wayne soon 
discovered, from the weight of the fire and 
the extent of their lines, that the enemy 
were in full force in front, in possession 
of their favorite ground, and endeavoring 
to turn the American left flank. He there- 
fore gave orders for the second line to 
advance and support the first, and directed 
Major-General Scott to gain and turn the 
right flank of the savages, with the whole 
of the mounted volunteers, by a circuitous 
route; at the same time, thefront line was 
ordered to advance and charge with trailed 
arms, and rouse the Indians from their 
coverts at the point of the bayonet, and 
when up to deliver a close and well-tlirected 
fire on their backs, followed by a brisk 
charge, so as not to give them time to 
load again. 

All these orders were obeyed with spirit 



GREATEST BATTLES IN THE INDIAN WARS. 



97 



and promptitude ; but such was the im- 
petuosity of tlie charge by tlie first line of 
infantry, that the Indians and Canadian 
militia and vohmteers were driven from 
their coverts in so sliort a time, that, 
although every jiossible exertion was used 




LITTLL TURTLE 



by the officers of the second line of the 
legion, and by Generals Scott, Todd, and 
Barbae, of the mounted volunteers, to gain 
their proper positions, only a part of each 
could get up in season to participate in the 
action, — the enemy being driven, in the 
course of one hour, more than two miles, 
through the thick woods, bj' less than one- 
half their numbers. Thus did this power- 
ful horde of savages, who had assumed to 
dictate terms and throw down the gauntlet 
to the American nation, abandon them- 
selves to flight, and flee in terror and dis- 
may, before Wayne and his victorious 
army. They were compelled to sue for 
peace on the conqueror's own terms; their 
7 



confederacy was shattered into fragments; 
their power was forever annihilated. On 
the return of Wayne to Philadelphia, then 
the nation's capital, there was a cessation 
of all business, as on some great holiday; 
the military turned out in legions to meet 
him ; the bells rang out their merriest 
peals, cannon boomed from every hill-top, 
and the plaudits of the multitude attended 
him at every step. General Harrison's 
defeat of the Indians under Tecumseh, at 
Tippecanoe, in 1811, was another victory 
of similar brilliancy and importance, de- 
serving of mention here. 

It only remains to add to this chapter, 
General Jackson's crowning achievement 
in the work of grinding to powder the mil- 
itary prestige of the Indian race in North 
America. The Creeks and Seminoles had 
long disputed the intrusion of the white 
race, and, though dreadfully cut to pieces 
in the battles of Talluschatches, Talladega, 
Emuckfaw, Enotochopco, and others, de- 
termined to make one more great and final 
struggle in the field. Accordingly, with 
consummate sagacity and skill, they se- 
lected a position at the great bend of the 
Tallapoosa, called by them Tohopeka, and 
by the whites Horseshoe Bend. Here, 
strongly fortified, were collected together 
the proudest, fiercest, most victorious war- 
riors, of all that race and region. On the 
27th of March, 1814, Jackson advanced 
and attacked them with tremendous en- 
ergy, the troops leaping over the walh of 
the fort, and engaging in a hand-to-hand 
combat with the savages, the latter fight- 
ing with characteristic fury and desjsera- 
tion. Of the nine hundred warriors, — the 
flower of their tribes, — who defended the 
fort, seven hundred and fifty were killed 
or drowned ; for, seeing no chance of 
escape, and scorning to surrender, they 
fought with bloody energy until nearly all 
were slain. 



XI. 



WHITNEY'S EXTRAORDINARY COTTON-GIN INVEN- 
TION.— 1793. 



Amazing Impetus Given to the Culture, Uses and Consumption of Cotton. — Revolution in the In- 
dustri.al Prospects and Political Power of the South.— How Cotton Became "King." — Its Relation to 
the Great Themes and Events in American History. — Ingratitude to Whitney. — His Brilliant Change 
of Fortune in Another Sphere. — Whitney's Obscure Circumstances. — His Early Mechanical Genius. 
— Determiued to Get an Education. — Goes to the South as a Teacher. — Change of Pursuits. — Be- 
frieuded by General Greene's Widow. — Amateur Inventive Efforts. — Low State of Southern In- 
dustry. — Objection to Cotton-Raising. — 
Mrs. Greene's Apt Suggestion. — Whit- 
ney's Characteristic Resolve. — Secret and 
Persevering Toil. — Exciting Rumors as 
to His Purpose — Great Expectations En- 
tertained. — Triumphant Success. — En- 
^I^HtU rfjJ^Bt^^^ — ^SP J^B«* ITIJ^B, thusiasm of the Cotton-Growers. — His 

Macliine Stolen from Him. — Infringe- 
ments upon His Patent. — Law-Suits, but 
no Redress for Him. — His Pathetic Let- 
ter to Fultou. — He Invents a Valuable 
Firearm. — Southern Strides in Wealth. 




" What Peter the Great did to make RuBsia dominsnt, 
Eli Whitoey's invention of the Cotton-Gin hae more than 
equaled in ita relation to the proereae and power of the 
United Statea."— LOBD Macaulat. 



RESULTS OF THE COTTON-GIN. 



EYOND all doubt or question, the 

invention of the cotton-gin, just at 
the close of the eighteenth century, 
was an event which most wontier- 
fuUy accelerated the liigh career of 
the United States, in an industrial point of view, and, indeed, revolutionized, by an 
extraordinary impetus, the manufactures and commerce of the world. It may be re- 
garded, in a word, as the first key which was applied to the unlocking of those won- 
drous natural capabilities of the new-born republic, the continued development of 
which has given her such a foremost place, in respect to material and political 
power, among the nations of the earth. So direct is its identity with the facts and 
causes which have led to the countr3''s prodigious progress during the hundred years 
of its national historj', that he who would trace to their primary source — with even 
ordinary philosophical acuteness of judgment — those momentous events, whether 
material, political, military, or social, which have distinguished the greater part of 
that century, may well pause longest and take his latitude at this point. Such, in- 
deed, is the great national consequence accorded by historians to this machine, that, of 



COTTON-GIN INVENTION. 



90 



the thousands upon thousands of inven- 
tions and discoveries recorded in the 
patent office at Washington, many of 
them, of course, of almost incalculable 
value, only some half a dozen, or less, 
are comprised in the ' chronology of 
important dates,' in the New American 
Cyclopedia, — that marvelous portrayal of 
man and civilization during the known 
ages. First among the triumphs of Amer- 
ican ingenuity thus made conspicuously 
historical, is the invention and introduc- 
tion of the cotton-gin, in 1793, which is 
the subject of this article. That it should 
have a place among the few of its kind 
capable of coming within the j)lan and 
scope of this volume, will be at once ap- 
parent. 

Before entering into the more elaborate 
details pertaining to this remarkable ma- 
chine and its bearing upon American 
industry and commerce, it may be useful 
to give, in the first place, a sketch in brief 
of the career of Eli Whitney, whose genius 
gave to his country, and to mankind, this 
great boon. At an early age, he gave in- 
dications of that mechanical and inventive 
talent, for which he was afterwards so 
greatly celebrated. His father was a 
farmer in Westborough, Massachusetts, a 
village where only the ordinary advantages 
of a common-school education were availa- 
ble. But Mr. Whitney was desirous of 
the benefits of a more complete course of 
instruction, and at the age of twenty-three 
entered the college in New Haven. He 
received the honors of this institution in 
1792, and soon after went to Georgia, in 
the expectation of opening a private 
school, and devoting himself to that profes- 
sion. In this expectation he was disajv 
pointed, for, on arriving at the place of his 
destination, he was informed that another 
tutor was already filling the station he ex- 
pected to occupy. 

Having traveled from the north, to Sa- 
vannah, in company with Mrs. Greene, the 
widow of the revolutionary general and 
hero of that name, he received from that 
lady a courteous invitation to make her 
house his home, while engaged in his 



course of studies preparatory to entering 
the legal profession. This most favorable 
offer, so timely in view of his shattered 
health and scanty means, he gratefully 
availed himself of. 

It was on the occasion of a social gath- 
ering of some neighbors and others, one 
afternoon, at the residence of Mrs. Greene, 
— a party including several planters of 
distinction, a few of whom had served as 
officers under General Greene's command, 
— that Whitney first resolved to rouse his 
genius to its utmost accomplishment. 
Among other remarks made by the gentle- 
men present, on the occasion referred to, 
was one in regard to the depressed condi- 
tion of the agricultural interests of Geor- 
gia, namely, that since all the lands in 
that region, not suitable for the cultivation 
of rice, were eminently favorable for the 
production of heavy cotton-crops, it was 
exceedingly to be regretted that no means 
existed of cleansing the green seed-cotton, 
or of sejiarating it from its seed, in a 
manner sufficiently thorough to make it 
profitable, — it being almost useless, in the 
absence of such a method or contrivance, 
to undertake to grow cotton-crops for sale, 
because only a pound of this green seed- 
cotton could be cleaned and made mer- 
chantable, j)er day, by a single laborer, 
and the price obtainable for it, when thus 
prepared, was but a few cents per pound. 

In response to these suggestions, Mrs. 
Greene, with true womanly perceptions, 
and knowing Whitney's ingenious turn of 
mind in the sphere of mechanics, naively 
remarked, "Well, gentlemen, apply to m}' 
young friend, Mr. Whitney, — he can make 
anj-thing ; " and, suiting the action to the 
word, she led them into the room where 
her tambour or embroidery-frame was 
kept, together with some other ingenious 
contrivances, and exhibited them to the 
company as evidences of Whitney's sin- 
gular skill. On being introduced to these 
gentlemen, and entering into conversation 
with them on the subject, Mr. Whitney 
was obliged to inform them that he had 
never seen cotton nor cotton-seed in his 
life! 



COTTON-GIN INVENTION. 



101 



In a few months, he had advanced bo 
far and so successfully with his machine, 
as to leave no doubt of his liaving achieved 
a complete triumph. In acknowledgment 
of Mrs. Greene's many and valued atten- 
tions to him during his labors, and her 
steadfast interest in his fortunes, the grat- 
ifying privilege was accorded her, on a 
day duly appointed, of exhibiting to an 
invited assembly of guests, principally 
planters, a model of the saw-gin that was 
to produce such a mighty change. Their 
astonishment was almost unbounded, 
when, on examining the principle and 
working of the instrument, they found 
that more cotton could be separated from 
the seed in one day by the labor of a single 
hand, than could be done, in the usual 
manner, in many months. Enthusiasm 
over such a result, and in view of such a 
prospect, was very natural. 

The report of Mr. Whitney's invention 
spread very rapidly throughout the South, 
exciting intense interest, and the planters 
in especial were eager to see a machine 
that promised such incalculable benefits to 
themselves and to the nation. For a time, 
however, Whitney declined showing the 
gin, as it was not entirely perfected, and 
because it might be imitated by others, 
and he be deprived in that way of his 
right to a patent. But, so great was the 
excitement to which the people had been 
wrought up, and so tempting was the 
chance which presented itself to the im- 
principled, to appropriate to themselves 
the fruits of other men's toils, that the 
building in which Whitney carried on his 
labors was actually broken into, one night, 
bj' a party of lawless individuals, and the 
instrument secretly carried off. Thus it 
was that several machines were constructed 
on the basis of Whitney's invention, and 
indeed varying but little from the original, 
though it was artfully attempted to have 
the deviation sufficiently obvious to escape 
the penalties of imitation. 

It may well be supposed that the vari- 
ous lawsuits growing out of the infringe- 
ments upon his rights, was an exhausting 
draft upon Mr. Whitney's funds. But, in 



addition to this drawback upon Ids enter- 
prise, there befell him the successive 
calamities of prolonged sickness, the 
destruction of his manufacturing estab- 
lishment by fire, and, worse than all, the 
assertion on the part of certain unfriendly 
persons, that the use of the machine ought 
to be abandoned, because it greatly in- 
jured the fiber of the cotton. The testi- 
mony of some of the Britis'h manufacturers 
was industriously circulated, to the effect 
that the old roller-gin, which ground the 
seed to impalpability, was preferable to 
that which separated the seed from the 
staple, at the sacrifice of its quality ! And 
here it may be of interest to state, that, in 
order to overcome the difficulty of separat- 
ing the seed from the wool by hand, a 
rude hand-mill, or roller-gin, was at an 
early period substituted, in some parts of 
India and China, by which from forty to 
sixtj'-five pounds could be cleaned in a 
day. After this, the cotton was further 
cleaned from dirt and knots by 'bowing.' 
A large bow being jilaced in a heap of 
cotton, the string was made to vibrate pow- 
erfully, thus dispersing and cleaning the 
heap. These means, emplo3'ed from re- 
mote times in eastern countries, were also 
formerly used by American growers. 
Much of the sea-island cotton is still sepa- 
rated from its seeds by rollers constructed 
on a large scale, and worked by horses, 
steam, or water. These rollers are of 
wood, and revolve rapidly in contact with 
each other ; as they do so, a sort of comb 
with iron teeth acts on the cotton as it 
passes between them, and detaches the 
seeds, which fly off like sparks in all direc- 
tions. Particles of seeds which escape and 
pass through with the cotton, are removed 
by hand. The cotton is then whisked 
about in a light wheel, and, when well 
winnowed, it is conveyed to the packing- 
house, and forced into bags by means of 
screws, until each bag contains the requi- 
site number of pounds. But short-stapled 
cotton cannot be properly cleaned by this 
process ; the seeds are so firmly attached 
to the wool, that a more powerful machine 
is needed, — and here the utilty of the saw- 



102 



COTTON-GIN INVENTION. 



ffin over the roller-contrivance is manifest. 
The cotton is put into a long and narrow 
hopper, one side of which is formed by a 
grating of strong parallel wires, one-eighth 
of an inch apart. Close to the hopper is a 
roller set with circular saws, an inch and a 
half apart. These, as they revolve, pass 
within the grating of the hopper to a cer- 
tain depth, and seize by their teeth on the 
locks of cotton, dragging them through the 
wires, which are not wide enough apart to 
allow the seeds to pass also. The cotton 
is afterwards swept from the saws by a 
revolving cylindrical brush. Thus the 
separation is effected iii a cheap, easy, and 
rapid manner. At first, Whitney used 
bent wires or teeth, like those of the 
common card, but much larger and 
stronger, and these were placed in rows on 
a revolving cylinder. The cotton was 
separated from this cylinder by a frame of 
parallel wires; as the cylinder revolved, 
the teeth extending through the wire- 
frame caught the cotton and drew it 
through the grating, but the seeds being 
too large to pass between the wires, were 
of course separated from the fiber. These 
teeth, however, being found too weak to 
pull the cotton from the seed without be- 
coming bent or broken, Wliitney substi- 
tuted a circular saw in their place. The 
teeth of the saw being large, and shaped 
like the beak of a bird, liad more strength 
and were equall}' effective. 

So serious an objection as that brought 
by the British manufacturers, namely, that 
the operation of this macJiine injured the 
quality of the cotton, was a most disheart- 
ening one to Mr. AVhitney and his part- 
ner, Mr. Miller, for, on its truth or falsity, 
their fortune and fate depended. For a 
time, the process of patent ginning was 
quite at a stand ; and, indeed, little was 
heard of it by the originators, except the 
condolence of a few real friends, who ex- 
pressed their regret that so promising an 
invention had entirely failed. Of the in- 
ventor's state of mind, as well as the con- 
dition of his purse, at this time, some idea 
may be formed from a letter written by 
Whitney, in the autumn of 1797, iu which 



he says : ' The extreme embarrassments 
which have for a long time been accumu- 
lating upon me are now become so great 
that it will be impossible for me to strug- 
gle against them many days longer. It 
has required my utmost exertions to exist, 




without making the least progress in our 
business. I have labored hard against the 
strong current of disappointment, which 
has been threatening to carry us down the 
cataract ; but I liave labored with a shat- 
tered oar, and struggled in vain, unless 
some speedy relief is obtained. Life is 
but short, at best, and six or seven years 
out of the midst of it is, to him who makes 
it, an immense sacrifice. My most unre- 
mitted attention has been directed to our 
business. I have sacrificed to it other 
objects, from which, before this time, I 
might certainly have gained twenty or 
thirty thousand dollars. My whole pros- 
pects have been embarked in it, with the 
expectation that I should, before this time, 
have realized something from it.' Against 
all opposition, the machine finally became 
appreciated according to its merits, and, 
though the country was flooded with imi- 
tations, — against the manufacturers of 
which, it seemed almost impossible to 
obtain any redress or protection in the 
courts of law, — a large demand set in, and 



COTTON-GIN INVENTION. 



103 



Wliitney'a golden visions appeared likely 
to be realized. 

At the suggestion made to them by 
some of their business friends, Miller and 
Whitney were induced, in view of the 
public benefit that would accrue to the 
cotton-growing states, by the gener.al and 
inexpensive introduction of the saw-gin, to 
offer the exclusive disposal of the machine 
in South Carolina to the legislature of 
that state, which offer was finally accepted ; 
the sum paid to the inventors, for this 
privilege, being fifty thousand dollars. 
Though this sum was only one-half of that 
which had originally been fixed upon by 
the patentees, it seems to have given quite 
a zest to Mr. Whitney's feelings and an- 
ticipations, for he wrote in relation to the 
new arrangement : ' The use of the machine 
here (in South Carolina) is amazingly ex- 
tensive, and the value of it beyond all 
calculation. It may, without exaggera- 
tion, be said to have raised the value of 
seven-eighths of all the three southern 
states from fifty to one hundred per cent. 
We get but a song for it in comparison 
with the worth of the thing; but it is se- 
curing something. It will enable Miller 
and Whitney to pay all their debts, and 
divide something between them. It es- 
tablishes a precedent that will be valuable 
as respects our collections in other states, 
and I tliink there is now a fair prospect 
that I shall in the event realize property 
enough to render me comfortable, and, in 
some measure, independent.' It was not, 
however, without much trouble and litiga- 
tion, that Wliitney realized the fulfillment 
of this contract. 

But the expense involved in numerous 
suits at law against the encroachera upon 
his patent, was more than the profits 
yielded by the sales, and these struggles 
and expenditures, and constantly-recurring 
discouragements, sent Mr. Miller to a pre- 
mature grave, at the close of 1803. In the 
year 1812, Mr. Whitney applied to con- 
gress for a renewal of his patent, in the 
hope of still receiving some substantial 
benefit from his invention. But the 
southern delegation generally — though 



with some honorable exceptions — were op- 
jiosed to it ; which was of course the more 
unexpected, as well as wounding, in view 
of the immense advantage of the machine 
to that part of the United States. In 
regard to this last-mentioned point, no tes- 
timony could be more weighty or emphatic 
in the affirmative than that by Judge 
Johnson, an eminent South Carolinian, 
and, at the time of speaking, a judge of 
the United States supreme court : — ' The 
whole interior of the southern states (these 
are the words of Judge Johnson, as judi- 
cially uttered) was languishing, and its 
inhabitants emigrating for want of some 
object to engage their attention, and em- 
ploy their industry, when the invention of 
this machine at once opened views to them 
which set the whole country in active 
motion. From childliood to age, it has 
presented to us a lucrative employment. 
Individuals who were depressed with pov- 
erty, and sunk in idleness, have suddenly 
risen to wealth and respectabilit}\ Our 
debts have been paid off. Our capitals 
have increased, and our lands trebled 
themselves in value. We cannot express 
the weight of the obligation which the 
country owes to this invention. The ex- 
tent of it cannot now be seen. Some faint 
presentiment may be formed from the re- 
flection that cotton is rapidly supplanting 
wool, flax, silk, and even furs, in manufac- 
tures, and may one day profitably supply 
the use of specie in our East India trade. 
Our sister states also participate in the 
benefits of this invention ; for, beside af- 
fording the raw material for their manu- 
facturers, the bulkiness and quantity of 
the article afford a valuable employment 
for their shipping.' 

Such was the testimony borne by the 
highest possible authority, in regard to 
the wonderful value and effect of this in- 
vention. And yet, though full a dozen 
years had elapsed since Whitney had 
staked his all upon the machine, and was 
even now pleading for redress against the 
piracies committed upon his rights and 
property, he was actually a poor man, 
struggling against remorseless fate. Mr. 



1U4 



COTTON-GIN INVENTION. 



Whitney, in a letter almost pathetic in its 
rehearsal of his wrongs, addressed to 
Robert Fulton, the inventor of the first 
successful steamboat, remarks, that 'the 
difficulties with which he had to contend 
originated, principally, in the want of a 
disposition in mankind to do justice. The 
invention was new and distinct from every 
other ; it stood alone. It was not inter- 
woven with anything before known ; and 
it can seldom happen that an invention is 
so strongly marked, and can be so clearly 
and specifically identified ; and I have 
always believed that I should liave had no 
difficulty in causing my rights to be re- 
spected, if it had been less valuable, and 
been used only by a small portion of the 
community. But the use of this machine 
being immensely profitable to almost every 
planter in the cotton districts, all were in- 
terested in trespassing upon the patent 
right, and each kept the other in counte- 
nance. Demagogues made themselves 
popular by misrepresentation and un- 
founded clamors, both against the right, 
and the law made for its protection. 
Hence there arose associations and combi- 
nations to oppose both. At one time, few 
men in Georgia dared to come into court 
and testify to the most simple facts within 
their knowledge, relative to the use of the 
machine. In one instance, I had great 



difficulty in proving that the machine had 
been used in Georgia, although, at the 
same moment, there were three separate 
sets of this machinery in motion witliin 
fifty yards of the building in which the 
court sat, and all so near that the rattling 
of the wheels was distinctly heard on the 
steps of the court-house.' Surely, few 
men of genius have rendered so great ben- 
efits to their country, by means of an in- 
vention, who have been so heartlessly 
treated and so poorly remunerated. De- 
spairing of ever realizing an adequate 
jeturn, therefore, for his cotton-gin, Whit- 
ney applied his inventive skill to the im- 
proved manufacture of firearms, in which 
he was very successful, and, having ob- 
tained valuable contracts from the govern- 
ment for his improved muskets, he 
ultimately acquired a fortune, — a strange 
but most deserved sequel to his hitherto 
checkered career. 

The progress and value of the cotton 
production in the United States, under the 
impetus given to it by Whitney's inven- 
tion, may be characterized as simply 
prodigious ; and, in the mind of the philo- 
sophic statesman and student, the story of 
the cotton-gin will forever weave itself, 
most intimately and wonderfully, with 
those great themes and events which make 
up the nation's history. 



XII. 

THE FAMOUS WHISKEY INSURRECTION IN PENNSYL- 
VANIA.— 1794. 



Violent Resistance to the United States Excise Laws. — Monster Meetings and Inflammatory Appeals 
— Officials and Loyal Citizens Whipped, Branded, Tarred, and Feathered. — Intense Excitement in all 
the States. — Washington Declares tliat the Union is in Peril and Heads an Army to Meet the Crisis. 
— Precipitate Flight of the Armed Rebels. — Congressional Tax on Spirits. — Cry of " Tyranny ! " from 
Distillers. — Western Pennsylvania in a Blaze. — Extent of her Whiskey Interests. — Ambitious Politi- 
cians at Work. — A Revolt Incited by Them. — Bradford the Chief Desperado. — Reign of Terror 
Inaugurated. — Tax-Collectors Roughly Handled. — The Incendiary's Torch. — "Tom the Tinker's" 
Rutfianisni — Fury of the Factionists. — Firm Courage of Loyal Men. — Perplexity of the United States 
Government. — Presidential Proclamation. — Law and Order to be Maintained. — Troops Summoned 
into Service. — Prompt and Patriotic Response. — The Olive Branch vs. the Sword. — Bradford Scoma 
Conciliation. — Washington's Mind Made Up. — Prevents the Effusion of Blood. 



*' Uere'a to your fery goot health. 
And tuma ta whuHky duty I "— Soso or tqb Tiues. 




HE year 1794 is distinguished in American history by a remark- 
able revolt among a portion of the inhabitants of Pennsylvania, 
and which is known as the Whiskey Insurrection. In 
1791, congress had enacted laws laying excise duties upon 
sjiirits distilled within the United States. This tax excited 
great and general opposition, but nowhere else was such vio- 
lence exhibited in resisting the execution of the law, as in the 
western counties of Pennsylvania, where the crops of grain 
were so over-abundant, that, in the absence of an adequate 
market for its sale, an immense quantity' of the cereal was 
distilled into whiskey, — the far-famed " Monongahela," so 
called from the name of the principal river of the region where 
the manufacture was carried on. It was insisted upon, by 
these people, that an article jiroduced so exclusively, by an 
isolated communitj-, as their sole and necessary dependence, 
ought not to be taxed for the support of the federal government ; and this opinion 
they adhered to — as the following pages will be found to show — with a tenacity 
worthy of a better cause, notwithstanding the day of temperance societies had not 
then dawned. 

Public meetings were held in all the chief towns, at which the action of congress 
was loudly denounced as oppression to be battled against to the very last extremity ; 



CAUSES OF THE WHISKEY IN- 
SURRECTION IN PENN. 



106 



FAMOUS WHISKEY INSUERECIION 




declaring, too, inat any 
person who had accopteu 
or might accept an ofSce 
under government, in or- 
der to carry the law into 
effect, should bo regarded 
as an enemy of his countrj-, 
to bo treated with contempt 
and total non-intercourse, 
official and personal. The 
federal government was 
scoffed at, its coercive 
authority disavowed; thus,, 
with the motto, "Liberty 
and No Excise!" the ball 
of rebellion rolled on. 

It was at this stage in 
the progress of affairs, and 
only one daj^ jjrecediugthe 
assembling of an import- 
ant meeting of malcon- 
tents of Pittsburg, that 
the tax collector for the 
3 counties of Alleghany and 

Washington made his ap- 

1 pearance. Aware of his 
a business, a party of men, 
g armed and disguised, way- 
laid him at a place on 
Pigeon Creek, in Washing- 

^ ton county, seized, tarred 
g and feathered him, cut off 
s his hair, and dejirived him 
'^ of his horse, obliging him 
to decamp on foot in that 
ludicrous and painful con- 
dition. In attempting to 
gerve legal processes upon 
the perpetrators of this out- 
rage, the marshal's deputy 
was also seized, whipped, 
tarred and feathered ; and, 
after having his money and 
horse taken from him, the 
ruffians blindfolded and led 
him into the depths of the 
forest, where he was tied 
and left to his fate. He 
was fortunately discovered 
in season, and rescued, by 
some friends. 



FAMOUS WHISKEY INSUERECTION. 



10/ 



Not long after, a person of the name of 
Eoseberry underwent the humiliating pun- 
ishment of tarring and feathering, with 
some attendant aggravations, for having 
in conversation hazarded the very natural 
and just, but unpalatable remark, that the 
inhabitants of a county could not reasona- 
bly expect protection from a government 
whose laws they so strenuously opposed. 
So great, too, was the audacity of the per- 
petrators of these outrages, that an armed 
banditti of them ventured to seize and 
carry off two persons who were witnesses 
against the rioters in the case of Wilson, 
in order to prevent their giving testimony 
in a court then sitting, or about to sit. 

On the part of the executive, such open 
defiance of the laws, and of the authority 
of the government, was believed to imperi- 
ously require that the strength and effi- 
ciency of those laws should be tried, by 
the governing power. Accordingly, Wash- 
ington issued his proclamation, emphati- 
cally condemning the lawless acts and pro- 
ceedings, warning all to return at once to 
their allegiance, and assuring them that 
the laws should be executed at any hazard. 
Against the leaders in some of the out- 
rages which had been committed, bills of 
indictment were found in a court of the 
United States, upon which process was 
directed to issue, and, at the same time, 
process was also issued against a great 
number of non-complying distillers. 

This proclamation not producing the 
desired effect. President Washington next 
endeavored to prevent the necessity of 
having recourse to active military meas- 
ures, by making it the interest of the dis- 
tillers to pay the duty. To this end, in 
addition to the prosecutions instituted 
against delinquents, the spirits distilled in 
the counties opposing the law were ordered 
to be seized on their way to market, by 
the officers of the revenue, and the con- 
tractors for the army were directed to 
purchase only the spirits on which the 
duties had been paid. But, whatever were 
the inclinations of the distillers — or some 
of them, — the fear of an infuriated popu- 
lace prevented a compliance with these 



orders ; and the factionists continued to 
take encouragement from the lenity of the 
executive, in the expectation of ultimate 
success. By violent threats they still 
kept the marshal from serving his precepts, 
committed numerous outrages upon the 
friends of government, and perfected their 
organization into military bands, to resist 
any force that might be sent to subject 
them to the laws. They styled their acts, 
" mending the still." 

It is not to be doubted that this inflamed 
state of the public mind was greatly ag- 
gravated by the ambitious designs and 
intemperate speeches of a few leading 
men. Conspicuous among the friends of 
the malcontents were Bradford, Marshall, 
Smilie, Brackenridge, Husbands, Findley, 
and Gallatin. The first-named, David 
Bradford, was the chief agitator, and led 
in person the desperate bands, in their 
career of violence. He vras an old settler 
in Washington county, had accumulated a 
large fortune, and, being bold and unscru- 
pulous in his politics, wielded a powerful 
influence over a certain class. Those asso- 
ciated with him were men of decided abil- 
ity, being of Scotch or Irish birth, and 
possessing their dominant characteristics 
of nationality. 

In the early part of 1794, the hostility 
of the law-breakers seemed to become more 
implacable and demonstrative. AVilliam 
Richmond, who had given information 
against some of the rioters, in the affair 
of Wilson, had his barn burnt, with all its 
valuable contents ; and the same thing 
happened to Robert Shawan, a distiller, 
who had been among the first to comply 
with the law, and who had alwaj's spoken 
favorably of it. These instances were 
multiplied. The law-abiding inhabitants 
were dogged and pursued by disorderly 
persons, their houses and distilleries 
broken into, property destroyed, conflagra- 
tions kindled, machinery disabled, life 
threatened. 

June being the month for receiving an- 
nual entries for stills, endeavors were used 
to open offices in Westmoreland and 
Washington, where it had hitherto been 



108 



FAMOUS WHISKEY INSUERECTION. 



found impracticable. With mucli pains 
and difficultj', places were at last procured 
for the purpose. 

That in Westmoreland was repeatedly 
attacked by armed men, in the night, who 
frequently fired upon it ; but it was de- 
fended with so much determination and 
perseverance, as to have been maintained 
during the remainder of the month. That 
in Washington, after repeated attempts, 
^yas suppressed. 

Charging himself with the service of the 
processes officially intrusted to him, the 
marshal repaired in person to the country 
which was the scene of these disorders. 
He continued unmolested in the perform- 
ance of this duty, until, being seen in 
company with General John Neville, in- 
spector of the county and a zealous advo- 
cate of the tax, they were assaulted on the 
road by a body of armed men, who fired, 
but without doing any injury. Early the 
next morning, a party attacked the house 
of General Neville, the inspector, but he 
defended himself bravely and succes-sfully- 

Apprehending, however, that the busi- 
ness would not terminate liere, Neville 
made application by letter to the judges, 
generals of militia, and sheriff of the 
count}', for protection. A reply to his 
application, from John Wilkins, Jr., and 
John Gibson, magistrates and militia-offi- 
cers, informed him that the laws could not 
be executed, so as to afford him the pro- 
tection to which he was entitled, owing to 
the too general combination of the people 
in that part of Pennsylvania to oppose the 
revenue law ; adding, that they would take 
every step in their power to bring the 
rioters to justice, and would be glad to 
receive information relative to the individ- 
uals concerned in the attack on his house, 
that prosecutions might be commenced 
against them — at the same time expressing 
regret that, should the citizens of the 
county be ordered out, in support of the 
civil authority, very few could be gotten 
who were not of the party of the rioters. 

The day following, the insurgents re- 
assembled with a considerable augmenta- 
tion of numbers, amounting to at least 



five hundred, and, on the seventeenth of 
Jul}', renewed their attack upon the house 
of the inspector, who, in the interval, had 
taken the precaution of calling to his aid 
a small detachment from the garrison of 
Fort Pitt, which, at the time of the attack, 
consisted of eleven men, who had been 
joined by Major Abraham Kirkpatrick, a 
friend and connection of the inspector. 
The leader of the insurgents was a despe- 
rado named John Holcroft, or " Tom the 
Tinlcer," as he was familiarly called. 

There being scarcely a prospect of ef- 
fectual defense against so large a number 
as then appeared, and as the inspector had 
everything to apprehend for his person, if 
taken, it was judged advisable that he 
should withdraw from the house to a place 
of concealment; Major Kirkpat;-ick gen- 
erously agreeing to remain with the eleven, 
intending, if practicable, to make a capit- 
ulation in favor of the property, or, if un- 
successful, to defend it as long as possible. 

A parley took place, under cover of a 
flag, which was sent by the insurgents to 
the house, with a demand that the inspec- 
tor should come forth, renounce his office, 
and stipulate never again to accept an 
office under the same laws. To this it was 
replied, that the inspector had left the 
house upon their first approach, and that 
the place to which he had retired was un- 
known. They then declared that they 
must have whatever related to his office ; 
to which, answer was made they might 
send persons, not exceeding six, to search 
the house, and take away whatever papers 
they could find, pertaining to the office. 
But, not satisfied with this, they insisted, 
unconditionally, that the armed men who 
were in the house for its defense, should 
march out and ground their arms. Major 
Kirkpatrick peremptorily refused, consid- 
ering it and representing it to them as a 
proof of a design to destroy the property ; 
and this refusal put an end to the parley. 

Brisk firing now took place between the 
insurgents and the party in the house, 
lasting for about an hour, till the assail- 
ants, having set fire to the neighboring 
and adjacent buildings, eight in number, 



FAMOUS WHISKEY INSURRECTION. 



109 



the intenseness of tlie heat, and the danger 
of an immediate communication of fire 
to the house, obliged the brave Kirkjiat- 
rick and his small party to come out and 
surrender themselves. 

Desirous of ascertaining their full 
strength, and also to discover any secret 
enemies that might remain unsuspected in 
the midst of these treasonable movements, 
Bradford and his comrades proceeded with 
a high and unsparing hand. Monster 
meetings of friends and sympathizers were 




DAVID BRADFORD. 

appointed, to determine the first question; 
and, to obtain satisfaction in regard to the 
second, the mail between Pittsburg and 
Philadelphia was stopped bj' armed men, 
who cut it open, and took out the letters 
which it contained. In some of these 
letters, a direct disapproliation of the vio- 
lent measures which had been adopted 
was openly avowed. Upon acquiring thus 
the names of their opponents, messengers 
were sent to Pittsburg, where the writers 
of the offensive letters resided, demanding 
the banishment of the offenders. A 
prompt obedience to these demands was 
unavoidable. Another plan was, for seiz- 
ing the United States military stores at 
Pittsburg, and using them in carrying on 
the revolt. In order to accomplish this, a 
mammoth gathering of the anarchists was 
appointed to be held on Braddock's field, 
August first. This call was made in the 
form usual for militia musters, and all 
were notified to come armed and equipped. 
Seven thoiisand men ansiiwreil to this call, 
and Bradford, assuming the office of major- 
general, reviewed the dense mass of troops. 
The main purpose, however, of this assem- 
blage, namely, to march upon Pittsburg, 



take possession of Fort Pitt and the 
United States arsenal, and then form an 
independent state, or sovereignty, com- 
posed of the counties west of the Alleghany 
range, had been divulged to few, and, 
upon farther consultation, it was found 
that the desperation of some of the leaders 
failed them at this point, and the project 
was abandoned. But it was determined to 
march to Pittsburg at any rate, — a march 
that was attended by a wholesale intimi- 
dation of the disaffected, the robbing of 
houses, and the burning of buildings. But 
the greatest popular demonstration made 
of the law-breakers' strength, was the 
meeting at Parkinson's Ferr}', where there 
assembled representatives of the whole 
vast region in insurrection, and, in the 
mad enthusiasm of the hour, pledfjed them- 
selves to follow, sixteen thousand strong, 
tmdcrthe banner of Bradford, in resisting 
and overturning the government. There 
were at this meeting many able men, but 
the attendant throng was of a far different 
class. 

The president had now, for three years, 
patiently awaited the effect of conciliatory 
measures, but these had only continued to 
render the opposition more desperate. He 
therefore had only to choose between the 
alternative of permitting the prostration 
of the government, or to call out its force 
in support of the laws. It was not in the 
nature of "Washington to allow the former. 

The subject, in all its momentous con- 
sequences, was laid by President Wash- 
ington before the cabinet, for final action, 
and General Mifflin, the governor of Penn- 
sylvania, was on this occasion called into 
the council. Their unanimous desire was 
to avoid, if possible, a resort to arms and 
bloodshed, and they therefore advised that 
commissioners should be sent to the insur- 
gents to warn them of their danger, and to 
offer a pardon of past offenses, on condi- 
tion of future obedience to the laws. It 
was also advised that a proclamation 
should be issued, in conformity to the act 
of congress, commanding the insurgents 
to disperse by a given day. All agreed 
that a crisis had arrived which was testing 



110 



FAMOUS WHISKEY INSURRECTION. 



the strength and practicability of republi- 
can institutions. 

The president did not hesitate to do his 
duty. He could no longer see the laws 
prostrated, and the authority of the United 
States defied, without exerting the means 
of prevention. He resolved, therefore, to 
issue the proclamation, which, by law, was 
to precede the emjdoyment of force. This 
proclamation, issued August seventh, con- 
tained a brief but distinct recapitulation 
of the measures which had been adopted 
by the government, as well as the pro- 
ceedings on the part of the insurgents, and 
the preparatory steps which had been 
taken to authorize the executive to emi^loy 
coercion — and which, though with the 
deepest regret, he had determined to do, 
in the interests of national preservation 
and social order ; and commanding all 
persons being in the position of insurgents, 
and all others whom it might concern, on 
or before the first day of the ensuing 
month of September, to disperse and re- 
tire peaceably to their homes. 

On the same day of this proclamation, 
a requisition was made on the governors 
of New Jersej', Pennsylvania, Maryland, 
and Virginia, for their several quotas of 
militia to compose an army of twelve or 
fifteen thousand men, who were to be im- 
mediately organized and prepared to march 
at a minute's warning. 

While the necessary stejjs were being 
taken to bring this force into the field, a 
last attempt was made to render its em- 
ployment unnecessary. To this end, tlie 
attorney-general of the United States, who 
was also a citizen of Pennsylvania, to- 
gether with Judge Yates, of the superior 
court, and Senator Ross of Pennsylvania, 
who was particularly popular in the west- 
ern section, were deputed by the govern- 
ment to be the bearers of a general 
amnesty for i)ast offenses, on the sole con- 
dition of future obedience to the laws. 

It having been deemed advisable that 
the executive of the state in wbich the 
insurrection was rampant should act in 
concert with that of the United States, a 
proclamation, similar in tone and spirit to 



that of the president, was now issued by 
Governor MifHin, and commissioners were 
appointed by him to unite with those of 
the general government. 

But Bradford, whose sway over his fol- 
lowers was well nigh despotic, inspiring 
them with slavish terror, laughed at the 
government jjroclamation and measures, 
claimed that he could marshal an army 
that would scatter the federal force to the 
four winds, and, under the banner of 
" Liberty and No Excise — No Asi/lum for 
Cowards and Traitors !" the insurgent 
spirit waxed fiercer and more bold. At- 
tempts were made to embark the adjacent 
counties of Virginia in their cause, and 
their violence was extended to Morgan- 
town, at which place an inspector resided, 
who only saved himself by flight, and pro- 
tected his property by advertising, on his 
own door, that he had resigned his office. 
Similar excursions were made into the 
eastern counties of Pennsylvania. 

The great convention of malcontents at 
Parkinson's Ferry had, under the advice 
of Brackenridge, Marshall, Gallatin, and 
some others, appointed a committee of 
safety, of sixty members, who chose fifteen 
of their body to confer with the commis- 
sioners of the United States, and of Penn- 
sylvania. This committee was to receive 
proposals, but neither offer nor accept 
terms of settlement. 

In their report of the conference thus 
held, the committee expressed themselves 
in favor of accepting the accommodation 
offered by the government. But, though 
many of the insurgents, trembling at the 
extent of the conflagration they had kin- 
dled, were now disposed to yield, a vast 
number still continued, under Bradford's 
fiery lead, to go on in their revolutionary 
violence, and so the last door to reconcilia- 
tion was shut. Meanwhile, the president's 
call for troops was being responded to in 
overwhelming numbers, under the patriotic 
lead of Governor Mifflin. 

The president issued a second proclama- 
tion, September 25, describing in terms of 
great energy the obstinate and perverse 
spirit with which the government's lenient 



FAMOUS WHISKEY INSUREECTIOK 



111 



propositions had been received, and de- 
claring his fixed determination, in virtue 
of the high and imperative duty imposed 
upon him bj- the constitution to " take care 
that the laius he faithfully exemted," to 
reduce the refractory to obedience. 

On every side, the signals of war were 
now displaj-ed ! The troops of New Jersey 
and Pennsylvania were directed to ren- 
dezvous at Bedford, and those of Marjdand 
and Virginia at Cumberland, on the Poto- 
mac. The command of the expedition was 
given to General Henry Lee, of Virginia; 
and the governors of New Jersey and 
Pennsylvania commanded, under him, the 
militia of their respective states. The 
president, in person, pushed on for Phila- 
delphia, through deep roads and a three 
days' drenching rain, visiting, as com- 
mander-in-chief, each of the two grand 
divisions into which ho had divided the 
forces. He had intended to continue to 
lead the army solely himself; but, ascer- 
taining that this would not be called for, 
and feeling confident that the force em- 
ployed must break down all resistance, he 
left General Hamilton, as his deputy, 
giving directions to Lee to marcc each 



division across the Alleghany mountains, 
meet on the other side, and act against the 
insurgents as circumstances might require. 
But, as had been sagaciously foreseen, the 




GEN. HBNBY LEB. 



greatness of the force prevented the effu- 
sion of blood. The rebellious hordes fled 
before such a demonstration, the clemency 
of the government was solicited, and sub- 
mission to every law freely promised. 
Some of the more evil disposed were ar- 
rested and tried, but pardon was ultimately 
extended to all. Bradford escaped to 
Spanish territory. And thus, in the 
words of Washington, was decided " the 
contest, whether a small proportion of the 
United States shall dictate to the whole 
Union." 



XIIl. 

FOUNDING AND ESTABLISHMENT OF THE NATIONAL 

CAPITAL.— 1799. 



Bitter Sectional Contest in Deciding tlie Location. — First " Compromise " in Congress between the 
North and the South. — Final Removal of the Government and its Archives to Washington. — Official 
Observance of the Event. — Magnificent Site and Plan of the City. — Splendor of its Public Build- 
ings. — Congress First Sits in Philadelphia. — Need of a Permanent Capital. — National Dignity Involved. 
— Violent Agitation of the Subject. — Philadelphia and New York Proposed. — They are Objected toby 
the South. — Northern Disunion Threats. — Schemes of Conciliation. — How the Question was Settled. 
— Sweetening Two Bitter Pills. — Jefferson's Graphic Account. — General Washington's Preference. — 
His Site on the Potomac Adopted. — Some Rather Personal Anecdotes. — Work of Laying Out the City, 
— Its Original Aspect and Condition — Early Trials of the President's Wife. — Construction of the Cap- 
Jtol. — Its Corner-Stone Laid by Washington. — Congress in its New Halls. — Growth of the Metropolia, 
—The New Corner-Stone of 1851. 




•* Where peeped the hut the palace trtwera t 
"Where fikimined the bark the war-ship lower* I 
Joy Kaily carols where was ailenceruife t 
And cuitared thoubaudu thronjf the auUtude. 



. EXT in importance to tlio founding of a free and independent 
nationality, and tlie inauguration of a supreme legislative and 
executive government, was the act of establishing a permanent 
capital, — one on a scale, and of a character, commensurate with 
the dignity and prospects of the new republic. Indeed, from as early a period as June, 
1783, when congress was virtually driven from its halls in Philadelphia by the mutiny 
of a part of the Pennsj'lvania line, the necessity was very evident of some place being 
fixed upon where the government of the Union might at least be secure from violence 
and insult. As this remarkable and untoward circumstance was, perhaps, one of the 
most notable in its bearing upon subsequent events, in this connection, it may be worth 
while to recite some of its chief features. While the jjatriot army, encamped under 
the eye of Washington, bore their hardships and privations without flinching, and, at 
the close of the struggle, in 1783, returned quietly, though poor and unpaid, to their 
homes, some of the newly-recruited soldiers of Pennsylvania, stationed at Lancaster, 
suddenly mutinied and set off in a body for Philadelphia, to demand redress of fancied 
grievances from the legislature of the state. Arriving at that city, they were joined 
by a force from the barracks, and proceeded on the second of June with beat of drum 
and fixed bayonets to the state house, where congress and the supreme executive council 
of Pennsylvania were both holding their sessions. After placing sentinels at all the 
doors, they sent in a written message, threatening the president and the council of the 
state to let loose an enraged soldiery upon them, if their demands were not acceded to 
in twenty minutes. Although the resentments of this banditti were not directed par- 



FOUNDING OF THE NATIONAL CAPITAL. 



113 



ticularly against congress, the government 
of the Union was grossly insulted, and 
those -who administered it were blockaded 
for several hours in the discharge of their 
duties, by an armed band. Fearing lest 
the authorities of Pennsylvania might not 
be able to furnish adequate protection, it 
adjourned to meet within a few days at 
Princeton, — sending information, in the 
meantime, to Washington, of this outbreak. 
The latter immediately sent fifteen hun- 
dred men under General Howe to suppress 
the mutiny; but before the detachment 
could reach Philadelphia, the mutiny was 
in a great degree subdued, and fortunately 
without bloodshed. 

Wlien once the subject of definitely 
fixing upon a location for the seat of gov- 
ernment was before congress and the 
people, the question seemed to overshadow 
all others. Being in session at Princeton, 
under the circumstances above narrated, it 
was resolved by congress that a building 
for the national legislature be erected near 
the Falls of the Delaware. 

The commissioners to lay out a town on 
the Delaware reported their proceedings 
to congress, but no further steps were 
taken to carry the resolution into effect. 
Some were very strenuous for New York, 
others proposed some convenient place on 
the banks of the Susquehanna. To the 
latter proposition, southern members, 
among whom was Mr. Madison, were un- 
alterably opposed. All admitted the im- 
portance of the step to be taken, involving, 
perhaps, the perpetuity of the government 
itself. 

At length, a compact respecting the 
teraporai-y and permanent seat of govern- 
ment was entered into between the friends 
of Philadelphia, and the Potomac, whereby 
it was stipulated that congress should 
hold its sessions in Philadelphia, for ten 
years, during which time, buildings for 
the accommodation of the government 
should be erected at some place, to be se- 
lected, on the Potomac, and which latter 
should become, on the expiration of the 
ten years, the permanent capital of the 
nation. This compromise having united 



the representatives of Pennsylvania and 
Delaware with the friends of the Potomac, 
in favor both of the temporary and perma- 
nent locality which had been mutually 
agreed on between them, a majority was 
thus finally secured iu favor of the project, 
and a bill which was brought into the 
senate iu conformity with this arrange- 
ment, passed both houses by small major- 
ities, though, according to Judge ilarshall, 
these majorities would have been larger, 
if necessary. 

But, as the final compromise briefly re- 
corded above shows, the die was cast, at 
last, to mutual satisfaction. How this was 
brought about, Jefferson's graphic, and, 
it may be, highlj'-colored iiortraiture of the 
closing hour and result of the struggle will 
give some idea : ' The eastern members 
particularly', who, with Smith from South 
Carolina, were the principal gamblers iu 
these scenes, threatened secession (aid dis- 
solution. Hamilton was in despair. As 
I was going to the president's, one daj', I 
met him in the street. He walked me 
backwards and forwards before the presi- 
dent's door for half an hour. He painted 
patheticallj' the temper into which the 
legislature had been wrought ; the disgust 
of those who were called the creditor 
states ; the danger of the secession of their 
members, and the separation of the states. 
He observed that the members of the ad- 
ministration ought to act in concert ; that 
though this question was not of my de- 
partment, yet a common duty should make 
it a common concern ; that the president 
was the center on which all administration 
questions ultimately rested, and that all of 
us should rally around him, and support, 
with joint efforts, measures approved by 
him ; and that the question having been 
lost by a small majoritj- only, it was prob- 
able that an appeal from me to the judg- 
ment and discretion of some of my friends, 
might effect a change in the vote, and the 
machine of government, now suspended, 
might be again set into motion. I told him 
that I was really a stranger to the whole 
subject ; that not having yet informed my- 
self of the system of finance adopted, I 



114 



FOUNDING OF THE NATIONAL CAPITAL. 



knew not hew far this was a necessary se- 
quence ; that undoubtedly, if its rejection 
endangered a dissohition of our Union at 
this incipient stage, I should deem that 
the most unfortunate of all consequences, 
to avert which all partial and temporary 
evils should be yielded. I proposed to 
him, however, to dine with me the next 
day, and I would invite another friend or 
two, bring them into conference together, 
and I thought it impossible that reasona- 
ble men, consulting together coolly, could 
fail, by some mutual sacrifices of opinion, 
to form a compromise which was to save 
the Union. The discussion took place. I 
could take no part in it but an exhortatory 
one, because I was a stranger to the cir- 
cumstances which should govern it. But 
it was finally agreed, that whatever im- 
portance had been attached to the rejection 
of this proposition, the preservation of the 
Union and of concord among the states, 
was more important, and that, therefore, 
it would be better that the vote of rejec- 
tion should be rescinded, to effect which 
some members should change their votes. 
But it was observed that this pill would be 
peculiarly hitter to the southern states, 
and that some concomitant measure should 
be adopted to siveeten it a little to them. 
There had before been projects to fix the 
seat of government either at Philadelphia, 
or at Georgetown on the Potomac ; and it 
was thought that, by giving it to Phila- 
delphia for ten years, and to Georgetown 
permanently afterwards, this might, as an 
anodyne, calm in some degree the ferment 
which might be excited by the other meas- 
ure alone. So two of the Potomac mem- 
bers (White and Lee, but White with a 
revulsion of stomach almost convulsive) 
agreed to change their votes, and Hamilton 
undertook to carry the other point. In 
doing this, the influence he had established 
over the eastern members, with the agency 
of Robert Morris with those of the middle 
states, effected his side of the engagement.' 
Thus it was that the assumption-bill was 
passed, and thus it was that the far more 
important measure was enacted, which 
provided — 



" That a district of territory on the 
river Potomac, at some place between the 
mouths of the eastern branch and the 
Connogocheague, be, and the same is 
hereby-, accepted, for the permanent seat 
of the government of the United States." 
In enduring honor of the father of his 
countr}', the name given to the projected 
city was Washington. 

From the beginning. General Washing- 
ton advocated the site which was finally 
fixed uj^on, and its establishment there 
was due in a large measure to his counsels 
and influence. It is related, though some- 
what questionable, that during the hot and 
angry discussion on the subject, in con- 
gress, pending the determination of a 
locality, a person who was in company 
with Washington remarked, one day, — 

"I know very well where the federal 
city ought to be." 

" Where then would you put it, sir ? " 
was the serene inquiry of Washington. 

" It ought to be located in Philadelphia," 
was the reply. 

" Why are you sure it should be there ? " 

" For the most satisfactory of all rea- 
sons," was the sinister answer ; " because 
nearlv the whole of my property lies there 
and in the neighborhood." 

In stern silence did Washington fasten 
his eye upon the man who thus dared the 
insolent insinuation that the president 
favored the location of the capital in its 
present site because it was near his Mount 
Vernon estates ; and the offender soon 
vanished out of sight. 

Another little anecdote in this connec- 
tion will be here given, as showing that 
" no sea is free from ripples." It was for 
many years traditional in the federal capi- 
tal, that one man was found not awed by 
the presence of the great founder of that 
city. Wliile the president was procuring 
the ground which was to be the seat of 
government, he had but little difiiculty in 
obtaining the necessary releases, except in 
one instance. Mr. James Byrnes was the 
owner of a lot or tract which it was advis- 
able should be included in the plan. The 
general had various conferences with Mr. 



FOUNDING OF THE NATIONAL CAPITAL. 



115 



Byrnes, who was especially obstinate, and, 
highly prizing, as he did, the tract in ques- 
tion, flatly resisted all the reasonings and 
persuasions of the great man. Unused to 
opjMsition, Washington at last turned 
upon him and said, as only he could say 

it — 

"Mr. James BjTnes ! what would your 
l.uul have been worth if I had not placed 
this city on the Potomac ? " 

Byrnes was not at all crushed by this 
peculiar flanking argument on the part of 
the general; but, undismayed, coolly 
turned to him and said, — 

"George Washington, what would you 
have been worth if you had not married 
the widow Custis ? " 

It will not do to judge of the nation's 
metropolis at that day by what it is now. 
At that time it was desolate in the ex- 
treme, with its long unimproved avenues 
and streets, its deep morasses, and its vast 
area covered with trees instead of houses. 
Mrs. Adams, the wife of President John 
Adams, who first occupied the White 
House, in writing to a friend regarding 
the city and the presidential mansion at 
that period, says : ' In the city are build- 
ings enough, if they were compact and 
finished, to accommodate congress and 
those attached to it, but as they are, I see 
no great comfort in them. The river, 
which runs up to Alexandria, is in full 
view of my window, and I can see the 
vessels as they pass and re-pass. The 
house is upon a grand and superb scale, 
requiring about thirty servants to attend 
and keep the apartments in proper order, 
and perform the ordinary business of the 
house and stables ; an establishment very 
well proportioned to the president's salary. 
The lighting the apartments, from the 
kitchen to the parlors and chambers, is a 
tax indeed ; and the fires we are obliged 
to keep, to secure us from daily agues, is 
another verj^ cheering comfort. To assist 
us in this great castle, and render less at- 
tendance necessary, bells are wholly want- 
ing, not one being hung through the 
whole house, and promises are all we can 
obtain. This is so great an inconvenience 



that I know not what to do, or how to do. 
If they will put me up some bells, and let 
me have wood enough to keep fires, I de- 
sign to be pleased. I could content my- 
self anywhere three months, but sur- 
rounded by forests, can you believe that 
wood is not to be had, because people can 
not be found to cut and cart it ? Briesler 
entered into a contract with a man to 
supply him with wood. A small part, a 
few cords only, has he been able to get. 
Most of that was expended to dry the walls 
of the house before we came in, and yes- 
terday the man told him it was impossible 
for him to procure it to be cut and carted. 
He has had recourse to coals ; but we can 
not get grates made and set. We have 
indeed come into a neiv couiitry.' These 
and kindred inconveniences were naturally 
incident to the new order of things ; they 
were only temporary. 

As has already appeared, it was reserved 
to Washington's immediate successor in 
the presidential office, to be the first occu- 
pant of the executive mansion. Neverthe- 
less, the superintending mind and hand of 
Washington are broadly identified with 
the conception not only of that elegant 
building, but of the capitol and other gov- 
ernment structures. On the fifteenth day 
of April, 1791, the Hon. Daniel Carroll 
and Dr. David Stewart superintended the 
fixing of the first corner-stone of the Dis- 
trict of Columbia, at Jones's Point, near 
Alexandria ; it was laid with all the usual 
masonic ceremonies, an address being also 
delivered on the occasion hy Rev. James 
Muir. " May this stone," said the orator, 
*' long commemorate the goodness of God 
in those uncommon events which have 
given America a name among nations. 
Under this stone may jealousy and selfish- 
ness be forever buried. From this stone 
may a superstructure arise whose glory, 
whose magnificence, whose stability, shall 
astonish the world." The south-east 
corner-stone of the capitol was laid by 
President Washington, September eight- 
eenth, 1793, with appropriate services, 
principal among which was the act of the 
commissioners, in their official capacity, 



116 



FOUNDING OF THE NATIONAL CAPITAL, 




WASHISGIOX, D. C, IS 1876. 



when they delivered to President Wash- 
ington, who deposited it in the stone, a 
silver plate, inscribed as follows : — 

" This south-east corner-stone of the 
Capitol of the United States of America, 
in the city of Washington, was laid on the 
18th day of September, 1793, in the eight- 
eenth year of American Independence, in 
the first year of the second term of the 
presidency of George Washington, whose 
virtues in the civil administration of liis 
country have been as conspicuous and 
beneficial as his military valor and pru- 
dence have been useful in establishing her 
liberties, and in the j-ear of Masonry' 5793, 
by the President of the United States, in 
concert with the Grand Lodge of Mar}-- 
land, several lodges under its jurisdiction, 
and Lodge No. 22 from Alexandria, Vir- 
ginia." 

In the summer of 1800, the archives of 
the government were removed from Phila- 
delphia to Washington, and, the ensuing 
November, the north wing, of the capitol 
was ready for the first sitting of congress 
in the new metropolis. John Cotton 



Smith, a distinguished member of this con> 
gress from Connecticut, speaking of the 
new city on his arrival there, sa\s : ' I 
can not sufiiciently express my admiration 
of its local position.' 

It was at this session that formal recog- 
nition was made of the great national 
event of the founding and establishment 
of the national capital, by mutual congrat- 
ulatory addresses between the chief mag- 
istrate of the rei^ublic on the one part, and 
the senate and house of representatives on 
the other. 

A more beautiful site for a large city 
could scarcel3' have been selected. On a 
level plain some three miles in length, and 
varying from a quarter to two miles wide, 
and extending from the banks of the 
Potomac to a range of hills bounding 
the plain on the east, the new city was 
laid out. The idea of General Washington 
was that the capitol should be the center 
of the citj', and that avenues should radi- 
ate from it at equi-distant points. To 
complete his plan, the metropolis should 
have a million of inhabitants, instead of 



FOUNDING OF THE NATIONAL CAPITAL. 



117 



its present very moderate fraction of tliat 
number. Though not a seven-hilled city, 
Washington has, as well as Rome, its Ca- 
pitoline Hill, commanding views scarcely 




NAri'>NAI 



less striking than those of the Eternal 
Citj'. The general altitude of the citj'- 
plot is forty feet above the river, but this 
is diversified by irregular elevations, which 
serve to give variety and commanding 
sites for the public buildings. The plot is 
slightly amphitheatrical, the president's 
house on the west standing on one of 
the sides, and the capitol on the other, 
while the space between verges towards a 
point near the river. The president's 
house and the capitol stand centrally with 
regard to the whole, though situated at 
the distance of one mile from each other, 
tlie former forty-four feet above the Poto- 
mac, and the latter seventy-two feet. All 
the public buildings are on a scale of mag- 
nificence worthy of a great nation ; and 
the munificence of congress in this respect, 
as well as in regard to all that pertains to 
the city, as the seat of government of the 
United States, is evident on every side. 
This is as it should be, and betokens the 
destined splendor, in point of architecture, 
avenues and parks, institutions of art, 
science and education, of the federal cap- 
ital. 

Starting from the capitol, the streets 
run from north to south and from east to 
west, their width varying from ninety to 
one hundred and ten feet. There are be- 
side twenty avenues, named after the 



older states of the Union, wliich cross the 
streets at various angles and connect the 
most important points of the city, forming 
at their intersection with the streets and 
with each other numerous open 
spaces. These grand avenues are 
from one hundred and thirty to 
one hundred and sixty feet uni- 
form width ; the principal of these 
is called in honor of the state of 
Pennsylvania, and extends from 
Georgetown to the Anacostia, a 
distance of four miles. It forms 
the main avenue of communication 
between the capitol and the presi- 
dent's house and the chief offices 
of government. The capitol com- 
mands Maryland, Delaware, New 
Jersey, Pennsylvania, Maine, and 
Missouri avenues ; the president's house, 
Pennsylvania, New York, Vermont, and 
Connecticut avenues. The effect of this 
arrangement, taken in connection with 
the natural advantages of the site, is 
exceedingly fine — one of the finest in 
the world, for a city. From the hill, in 
especial, on which stands the capitol, the 




ByilBOLIC STATUE OF AMtKICA aUKMOUNTINQ 
THE U. S. CAPITOL. 

most noble view presents itself to the eye 
of the beholder that the imagination can 
conceive. On the fourth of July, 1851, 



118 



FOUNDING OF THE NATIONAL CAPITAL. 



the corner-stone of that magnifieent ex- 
tension of the capitol which has rendered 
it the most superb structure of its kind in 
the world, was laid with splendid ceremo- 
nial, including a commemorative oration 
by President Fillmore, assisted by Daniel 
Webster, secretary of state. In the stone 
was also deposited a record of the event, 
with the following impressive statement 
and invocation : — 

" If, therefore, it shall be hereafter the 
will of God that this structure shall fall 
from its base, that its foundation be up- 
turned, and this deposit brought to the 
eyes of men, be it then known that on 
this day the union of the United States of 
America stands firm, that their Constitu- 



tion still exists unimpaired and with all 
its original usefulness and glory, growing 
every day stronger and stronger in the 
affections of the great body of the Amer- 
ican people, and attracting more and more 
the admiration of the world. And all 
here assembled, whether belonging to 
public life or to private life, with hearts 
devoutly thankful to Almighty God for 
the preservation of the liberty and hapf)i- 
ness of the country, unite in sincere and 
fervent prayer that this deposit, and the 
walls and arches, the domes and towers, 
the columns and entablatures, now to 
be erected over it, may endure forever ! 
God Save the United States of 
America ! " 



XIV. 
DEATH OF GEORGE WASHINGTON.— 1799. 



His Sudden and Brief Illness, Last Hours, and Dying Words — Fortitude and Serenity Through all 
His Sufferings. — He Calmly Announces His Approaching Dissolution Without a Murmur. — The 
Whole World Does Honor, by Eulogy and Lamentations, to His Exalted Worth and Immortal Fame. 
—He Anticipated an Early Death.— His Invariably Good Health —E.xposure in a Snow-Storm — 
Takes a Fatal Cold.— Last Letter Written by His Hand.— Re.ads the Papers in the Evening.— Char- 
acteristic Reply to His Wife.— Passes a Restless Night— Alarming Condition the Next Day.— Medi- 
cal Treatment of no Avail.— Calls for His Two Wills, Burns One.— Affecting Scene at His Bedside. 
--- —Last Words, "'Tis Well!"— Only One Day's Sickness. 

— Acute Laryngitis His Disease. — Burial in the Old Family 
Vault. — Tidings of His Death. — Tributes from Peoples and 
Kings. — A Man Without a Parallel — Last Page in His 
Journal. — Re-entombment in 1837. — Appearance of His 
Remains. 




"Posterity will talk of WnshiTirton with revprence. as the founder of a (Treat 
empire, when my name ehull be lost in the vortex of reToIution.'-NAPOLEOji IJo- 

NAPAETE. 



'ASIIIXGTON is dead ! " were the appalling words which, with the 
fading out of the eighteenth century, brought home to eveiy American heart the solemn 
lesson of the flight of time, and that " all men are mortal." Totally unprepared as 
was his idolizing country for such an event, — no intelligence of the slightest illness of 
the great chieftain having preceded the bald announcement of his death and burial, — 
the tidings moved the nation's heart to profound amazement and sorrow, and deep an- 
swered unto deep, in the universal wail of a bereaved and stricken republic. If a 
nation's pra}-ers could have prevailed, Washington — Columbia's most honored, venerated, 
and renowned son, — would have been immortal on earth. But the ordinance of divine 
wisdom is, that the great boon of immortality shall be attained by man only through 
the portals of the grave, and to this decree the illustrious and the humble are alike sub- 
ject. Thus it was that Washington, the great Christian warrior and statesman — the 
greatest of good men and the best of great men — paid the debt of nature when he had 
scarcely reached the allotted period of three-score j'ears and ten. 

The last end of so illustrious a personage as Washington, is fraught with an interest 
so profound and memorable, as never to lose its freshness and value to successive 
generations. It appeared to be the will of heaven that, so soon as the circum- 
stances of his country enabled it to dispense with the services of the man who, above 
all others, was its founder and leading head, he should be summoned away from 
the scenes of earth. That he was one who was accustomed to consider the brevity of 
life and the uncertainty of human affairs, is evident from the tenor of his conduct 
and conversation, and from occasional passages in his correspondence. Thus, to the 
Hon. James M'Henrj^, secretary of war, he wrote, but a few months prior to his 
decease : " My greatest anxiety is to have all these concerns in such a clear and distinct 



120 



DEATH OF GEORGE WASHINGTON. 



forra, that no reproach may attach itself to 
me when I have taken my departure for 
the land of spirits." He had also been 
making arrangements, just before the at- 
tack of illness which terminated in his 
death, for the construction of an improved 
family tomb, and in speaking of his plans 
to a relative at his side, he remarked, 
•' This change, I sliall make the first of all, 
for I may require it before the rest." He 
had also been heard to say, "I am of a 
short-lived family, and cannot expect to 
remain very long upon the earth." 

The month of December, 1799, found 
him in the enjoj'ment of excellent health. 
Indeed, Major Lewis, his nephew, writing 
of him as he appeared to himself and a 
friend at that time, says, " The clear and 
healthy flush on his cheek and his 
sprightly manner brought the remark from 
both of us, that we had never seen the 
general look so well." On the tenth of 
December, he completed the draught of an 
elaborate plan for the management of his 
lands, laying down the rotation of the 
crops for a succession of years in advance. 
The morning of that day was clear and 
calm, but the afternoon was lowering. 
The next daj', the eleventh, was bluster- 
ing and rainy ; and at night, as AVashing- 
ton recorded in his diary, "there was a 
large circle round the moon." The morn- 
ing of the twelfth was overcast. Wash- 
ington's last letter was written that 
morning — it was to Hamilton, and princi- 
pally on the subject of a military academy. 
The events of that day, and of the two 
days following, are most minutely narrated 
by an eye-witness — Mr. Tobias Lear, — 
who was Washington's private secretary 
as well as valued friend ; and with Mr. 
Lear's statement, are incorporated some 
facts from the pen of Washington's favor- 
ite kinsman, Mr. Custis : — 

On Thursday, December twelfth, the 
general rode out to his farms about ten 
o'clock, and did not return home till jiast 
three. Soon after he went out, the weather 
became very bad, rain, hail, snow falling 
alternately, with a cold wind. When he 
came in, I carried some letters to -him to 



frank, intending to send them to the post- 
office in the evening. He franked the 
letters, but said the weather was too bad 
to send a servant to the office that even- 
ing. I observed to him, that I was afraid 
he had got wet. He said, No, his great 
coat had kept him dry. But his neck ap- 
peared to be wet, and the snow was 
hanging upon his hair. He came to din- 
ner, which had been waiting for him, 
without changing his dress. In the even- 
ing he appeared as well as usual. 

A heavy fall of snow took place on 
Friday, which prevented the general from 
riding out as usual. He had taken cold, 
undoubtedly fram being so much exposed 
the day before, and complained of a sore 
throat. He, however, went out in the 
afternoon into the ground between the 
house and the river to mark some trees, 
which were to be cut down in the improve- 
ment of that spot. As was usual with 
him, he carried his own compass, noted 
his observations, and marked the ground. 
He had a hoarseness, which increased in 
the evening, but he made light of it. 

Between two and three o'clock, on Sat- 
urday morning, December fourteenth, he 
awoke Mrs. Washington, and told her that 
he was ^ery unwell, and had had an ague. 
She observed that he could scarcely speak, 




and breathed with difficulty, and would 
have got up to call a servant. But he 
would not permit her, lest she should take 
a cold. As soon as the day appeared, the 



DEATH OF GEORGE WASHINGTON. 



121 



woman (Caroline) went into the room to 
make a fire, and Mrs. Washington sent 
her immediately to call me. I got up, 
put on my clothes as quickly as possible, 
and went to his chamber. Mrs. Washing- 
ton was then up, and related to me his 
beinsr ill as before stated. I found the 
general breathing with difficulty, and 
hardly able to utter a word intelligibly. 
He desired Mr. Rawlins (one of the over- 
seers) might be sent for, to bleed him be- 
fore the doctor could arrive. I dispatched 
a servant instantly for Rawlins, and an- 
other for Dr. Craik, and returned again to 
the general's chamber, where I found him 
in the same situation as I had left him. 

A mixture of molasses, vinegar, and 
butter, was prepared, to try its effects in 
the throat; but he could not swallow a 
drop. Whenever he attempted it, he ap- 
peared to be distressed, convulsed, and al- 
most suffocated. Rawlins came in soon 
after sunrise, and prepared to bleed him. 
When the arm was ready, the general, ob- 
serving that Rawlins appeared to be agi- 
tated, said, as well as he could speak, 
" Don't be afraid." And when the incision 
was made, he observed, '• The orifice is not 
large enough." However, the blood ran 
pretty freely. Mrs. Washington, not 
knowing whether bleeding was proper or 
not in the general's situation, begged that 
much might not be taken from him, lest it 
should be injurious, and desired me to 
stop it ; but, when I was about to untie 
the string, the general put up his hand to 
prevent it, and, as soon as he could speak, 
lie said, " More, more." Mrs. Washing- 
ton being still very uneasy, lest too much 
blood should be taken, it was stopped after 
taking about half a pint. Finding that no 
relief was obtained from bleeding, and 
that nothing would go down the throat, I 
proposed bathing it externally with sal 
volatile, which was done, and in the opera- 
tion, which was with the hand, and in the 
gentlest manner, he observed, "It is very 
sore." A piece of flannel dipped in sal 
volatile was put around his neck, and his 
feet bathed in warm water, but without 
affording any relief. 



In the meantime, before Dr. Craik ar^ 
rived, Mrs. Washington desired me to 
send for Dr. Brown, of Port Tobacco, 
whom Dr. Craik had recommended to be 
called, if any case should ever occur that 
was seriously alarming. 

Dr. Dick came about three o'clock, and 
Dr. Brown arrived soon after. Upon Dr. 
Dick's seeing the general, and consulting 
a few minutes with Dr. Craik, he was bled 
again. The blood came very slow, was 
thick, and did not produce any symptoms 
of fainting. Dr. Brown came into the 
chamber soon after, and upon feeling the 
general's pulse, the phj-sicians went out 
together. Dr. Craik returned soon after, 
The general could now swallow a little. 
Calomel and tartar emetic were adminis- 
tered, but without any effect. 

The weather became severely cold, 
while the group gathered nearer to the 
couch of the sufferer. He spoke but little. 
To the respectful and affectionate inquir- 
ies of an old family servant, as she 
smoothed down his pillow, how he felt 
himself, he answered, " I am very ill." 
To Mrs. Washington he said, " Go to my 
desk, and in the private drawer you will 
find two papers — bring them to me." 
They were brought. Upon looking at 
them he observed, " These are my wills — 
preserve this one and burn the other;" 
which was accordingly done. 

In the course of the afternoon he ap- 
peared to be in great pain and distress, 
from the difficulty of breathing, and fre- 
quently changed his posture in the bed. 
On these occasions I lay upon the bed and 
endeavored to raise him, and turn him 
with as much ease as possible. He ap- 
peared penetrated with gratitude for my 
attentions, and often said, " I am afraid I 
shall fatigue you too much ;" and upon my 
assuring him that I could feel nothing but 
a wish to give him ease, he replied, 

" Well, it is a debt we must pay to each 
other, and I hope, when you want aid of 
this kind, you will find it." 

He asked when Mr. Lewis and Wash- 
ington Custis would return. (They were 
then in New Kent.) I told him about the 



122 



DEATH OF GEOEGE WASHINGTON. 




20th of tlie montli. 
Tlie general's serv- 
ant, Cli ri s topher, 
^^ii&T5(^^^^*^ "'iis in the room dur- 
ing the daj' ; and in the afternoon, the 
general directed him to sit down, as he had 
been standing almost the whole day. He 
did so. About eight o'clock in the morn- 
ing, he had expressed a desire to get up. 
His clothes were put on, and he was led to 
a chair by the fire ; he found no relief 
from that position, and lay down again 
about ten o'clock. About five o'clock, Dr. 
Craik came again into tlie room, and, 
upon going to the bedside, the general said 
to him, 

" Doctor, I die hard, btit I am not afraid 
to go. I believed, from my first attack, 
that I should not survive it. My breath 
can not last long." 

The doctor pressed his hand, but could 
not utter a word. He retii-ed from the 
bedside, and sat by the fire absorbed in 
grief. Between five and six o'clock. Dr. 
Dick and Dr. Brown came into the room, 
and with Dr. Craik went to the bed, when 
Dr. Craik asked him if he could sit iip in 
the bed. He held out liis hand, and I 



INGTON, DEC. U, 1799. 

I raised him up. He thcii|^^j%5§4 
said to the physicians, 

" I feel myself (join<i 
I thank you for yam i:^-;=\s.._'-' '■ , ;'^. 
attentions ; hut I jiray yuu lu laUi: no more 
trouble about me. Let me go off quietly. 
I cannot last long." 

About ten o'clock he made several at- 
tempts to speak to me before he could 
effect it. At length he said, 

"I am just going. Have me decently 
buried; and do not let my body be put 
into the vault in less than three days after 
I am dead." 

I bowed assent, for I could not speak. 
He then looked at me again and said, 

" Do you understand me V " 

" Yes," I replied. 

"'Tis WELL," said he; the last words 
which he ever uttered on earth. 

With surprising self-possession he pre- 
pared to die — composing his form at full 
length, and folding his arms on his bosom. 

About ten minutes before he expired 
(which was between ten and eleven o'clock 
Saturday evening), his breathing became 
easier. He lay quietly; he withdrew his 
hand from mine, and felt his own pulse. 



DEATH OF GEORGE WASHINGTON. 



123 



I saw his countenance change. I spoke to 
Dr. Craik, who sat by the tire. He came 
to the bedside. The general's liand fell 
from his wrist. I took it in mine, and 
pressed it to my bosom. Dr. Craik put 
his hands over his eyes, and he expired 
without a struggle or a sigh, December 
fourteenth, 1799, in the sixty-eighth year 
of his age, after an illness of twenty-four 
hours. 

While we were fixed in silent grief, 
Mrs. Washington, who was sitting at the 
foot of the bed, asked with a firm and 
collected voice, " Is he gone ? " I could 
not speak, but held up my hand as a signal 
that he was no more. " 'Tis well," said 
she, in the same voice, " all is now over ; 
I shall soon follow him ; I have no more 
trials to pass through." 

Tlie disease of which Washington died 
was what is now technically called " acute 
laryngitis," a disease of very rare occur- 
rence. 




GEORGE WASHINGTON, AS COLONEL. 

About twelve o'clock, the body was car- 
ried down stairs, and laid out in the large 
drawing-room ; the burial taking place the 
next Wednesday, December 18th, his 
mortal remains being deposited in the 
family vault at Mount Vernon. The 
sudden tidings of his death fell like a do- 
mestic sorrow upon the hearts of the 
people ; lamentations and solemn obsequies 
filled the land, — and, throughout the whole 
world, the event was heard with the deep- 
est emotion. 

Nearly forty years after Washington's 



death and burial, his remains, together 
with those of his wife, were re-entombed, 
in order to their being placed in tlie 
marble coffins which had been generously 
offered for that purpose by a patriotic citi- 
zen of Philadelphia, to the legal represen- 
tatives of the departed chieftain. This 
was in 1837. At the time of Washing- 
ton's interment, December 18, 1799, his 
body was placed in a mahogany coffin lined 
with lead, soldered at the joints, with a 
cover of lead to be soldered on after the 
body should be in the vault. The coffin 
was put into a case, lined and covered 
with black cloth. 

On entering the tomb and examining 
the coffin, on the occasion in question, it 
was found that the lid had become dis- 
placed and broken, and the silver shield 
which had originally surmounted the lid 
had drojiped down into the case. At the 
request of Major Lewis, who was one of 
the family group to witness the re-entomb- 
ment, the fractured part of the lid was 
turned over on the lower part, exposing to 
view a head and breast of large dimen- 
sions, which appeared, by the dim light of 
the candles, to have suffered but little 
from the effects of time. The eye-sockets 
were large and deep, and the breadth 
across the temples, together with the fore- 
head, appeared of unusual size. There 
was no appearance of grave-clothes ; the 
chest was broad, the color was dark, and 
there was the appearance of dried flesh 
and skin adhering closely to the bones. 

The ancient family vault, in which 
Washington's remains first reposed, was 
situated under the shade of a small grove 
of forest trees, a short distance from the 
family mansion of Mount Vernon, and 
near the brow of the precipitous bank of 
the Potomac. Diminutive and unadorned,, 
this humble sepulchre stood in a most 
romantic and picturesque spot, and, on ac- 
count of its prominent locality, could be 
distinctly seen by travelers, as they passed 
in steamboats up and down the river. 

But the ashes of the father of his coun- 
try were in course of time removed from 
that place, to a lot near the corner of a 



124 



DEATH OF GEORGE WASHmoTON. 



beautiful enclosure, where the river is con- 
cealed from view. This site was selected 
by Washington himself, in the later years 
of his life, for a tomb. 

It is scarcely necessary to cite the opin- 
ions held by the illustrious men of Amer- 
ica concerning Washington. Those opin- 
ions, held and shared by all, from the 
highest to the humblest citizen, may all 
be summed up in that grand apotheosis of 
eulogy, namel}', that he was "First in 
War, First in Peace, First in the 
Hearts of His Countrymen." It will 
be of interest, however, in this place, 
to glance at the estimate of Washing- 
ton held by some of the great historic 
characters of the old world, — kings, queens, 
nobles, and orators. 

When Napoleon was about to embark 
for Eg3'pt, some American gentlemen who 
happened to be at Toulon, being anxious 
for an interview with the mighty Corsi- 
can, obtained an introduction to him. 
Scarcely were the customary salutations 
e.xehauged, when he eagerly asked — 

" How fares your countryman, the great 
Washington ? " 

" He was very well, general, when we 
left America," replied the travelers. 

"Ah, gentlemen," rejoined the man of 
destiny, " Washington can never be other- 
wise than well. The measure of his fame 



'^il^?^, 




GEORGE WASHINGTON, GENEBAL U. 8. A. 

is full. Posterity will talk of him with 
reverence as the founder of a great empire, 
when my name shall be lost in the vortex 
of revolutions." 

Marie Antoinette, queen of France, was 



a great admirer of the heroism and per- 
sonal character of Washington, though 
not in sympathy with his political princi- 
ples. Wishing to send to him a royal 




PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES. 



gift in token of her appreciation of his 
great merits, she consulted Lafayette as to 
the form of presentation, citing the terms 
used on similar occasions, in addressing 
kings and other monarchs. Lafayette 
mildly objected to those terms, as being 
not altogether suitable in the present case, 
saying : " They, madam, were only kings. 
Washington is the General of a free na- 
tion," — a sentiment to which the gentle- 
mannered queen at once yielded a most, 
gracious assent, in deference to the ac- 
knowledged pre-eminence of Washington. 
Lord Erskine, in writing to Washington 
from London, said : " I have taken the 
liberty to introduce your august and im- 
mortal name in a short sentence, which is 
to be found in a book I send you. I have 
a large acquaintance among the most val- 
uable and exalted classes of men ; but you 
are the only human being for whom I have 
ever felt an awful reverence. I sincerely 
pray God to grant you a long and serene 
evening to a life so gloriously devoted to 
the universal happiness of the world." 



DEATH OF GEORGE WASHINGTON. 



125 



In the year 1780, Frederick the Great, 
king of Prussia, presented General Wash- 
ington with a picture of liis majesty taken 
to the life, and inscribed underneath with 
the words — 

"From the oldest general in Europe, to 
the greatest general on earth. 

Charles James Fox, the renowned Brit- 
ish premier, declared of Washington, in 
the presence of parliament: "How infi- 
nitely wiser must appear the spirit and 
principles manifested in his late addresses 
to congress than the policy of modern Eu- 
ropean courts ! Illustrious man ! deriving 
honor less from the splendor of his situa- 
tion than from the dignity of his mind; 
before whom all borrowed greatness sinks 
into insignificance, and all the potentates 
of Europe — excepting the members of our 
own royal family — become little and con- 
temptible. I can not, indeed, help admir- 
ing the wisdom and fortune of this great 
man. A character, of virtues so happily 
tempered by one another, and so wholly 
unalloyed by any vices, is hardly to be 
found on the pages of history. For him it 
has been reserved to run the race of glory, 
without experiencing the smallest inter- 
ruption to the brilliancy of his career." 

When the news of Washington's death 
reached France, Napoleon announced the 
event to his army, and ordered black crape 
to be suspended from all the flags and 
standards in the French service for ten 
days ; and, on the eighth of February, 
1800, M. DeFontanes, by direction of Na- 
poleon, jJi^onounceJ a funeral oration in 
honor of Washington, in the presence of 
Bonaparte and the great dignitaries of the 
realm, in which oration the illustrious de- 
ceased was declared to be " a character 
worthy the best days of antiquity." 

Of Washington's personal appearance, 
little further need be remarked than that 
it comported entirely with the solid gran- 
deur of his character. In respect to ^)/i?/- 
sique, no man could have been better 
formed for command. A stature some- 
what exceeding six feet, a full but admir- 
ably-proportioned frame, calculated to 
sustain fatigue, without that heaviness 



which generally attends great muscular 
strength and abates active exertion, dis- 
played bodily power of no mean standard. 
A light gray ej^e and full, firm forehead, 
Eoman nose ; his mouth was peculiar of its 




TOMB OF WASHIKGTOir. 



class — the lips firm, and the under jaw 
seeming to grasp the upper with force, as 
if its muscles were in full action when he 
sat still. It was Washington's habit to 
fasten his eyes calmly and steadilj' upon 
those who were ushered into his presence, 
whether friend or foe, nor was it a slight 
ordeal thus to meet his penetrating gaze. 
His limbs were long, large, and sinewy, 
and his frame was of equal breadth from 
the shoulders to the hips ; his joints were 
large, as were also his feet, and the great 
size of his hand never failed to attract 
attention. His gait and tread was that of 
a practiced soldier ; his deportment inva- 
riably grave and reserved ; his speech 
sparing and deliberate. At home he wore 
the usual dress of a citizen ; on state occa- 
sions, he dressed in a full suit of the rich- 
est black velvet, with diamond knee- 
buckles, and square silver buckles set 



126 



DEATH OF GEORGE WASHINGTON. 



iipou shoes japanned with the most scru- 
pulous neatness, bhiuk silk stockings, his 
shirt rutHed at the breast and wrists, a 
light dress sword, his hair profusely pow- 
dered, fully dressed, so as to project at the 
sides, and gathered behind in a silk bag, 



ornamented with a large rose of black 
ribbon. In the prime of life, Washington 
stood six feet two inches, and weighed 
nearly two hundred and twenty pounds ; 
he measured precisely six feet when at- 
tired for the grave. ' 



xy. 



FATAL DUEL BETWEEN MR. BURR AND GENERAL 
ALEXANDER HAMILTON.— 1804. 



FallofHarailtonat First Fire.-IIis Death in Tiiirty Hours-Profound Sensation and Solemn Obse- 
nuies in all Parts of ti.e Land.-Mourneil as one of tlie Founders of tlie Republic-Indictment of the 
Assassin for the Crime of Murder.-Hamilton's Brilliant Public Life.-Washington's Right-hand Man. 
-Champion of tlie Federalists.-Burr's Career in the Revolution.-His Notorious Debauchery .-Fi- 
nally Dismissed by Washington-Becomes Vice-President in 1800.-Deadly Personal Hatreds - 
Criticisms on Burr by His Opponents.-Challenge Sent to Hamilton .-Pacifio Explanations Spurned. 
—Forced to Meet Burr.- Makes His Will in Anticipation —Sings at a Banquet tlie Day Before — 
Arrival of tlie Fatal Hour -Hamilton's Mortal Wound.-What He Said of the Event-Conversation 
Before Dying -Partakes of the Coramunion.-His Testimony Against Dueling.-Heartless Conduct 
of Burr.- A Fugitive and an Outlaw. 



Ciesar to Anlowr "Let the old ruffian know 

I have many other wayi to die: meannme. 

Laugh ut hU ehulieuge."— ANr. & Clko., Act. *, Be. 1. 



Y far the most exciting personal transac- 
tion that occurred among the first genera- 
tion of American statesmen and politi- 
cians, was the duel fought in Julj-, 1804, 
between Colonel Aaron Burr, at that time 
vice-president of the United States, and 
General Alexander Hamilton, formerly 
.secretary of the treasurj', during the ad- 
ministration of Washington; and in wliich 
duel Hamilton fell mortally wounded, his 
'j country being thus deprived of its most 
I brilliant ornament. 

Of transcendent abilities and unsullied 
official integrit}^ it may he said of the 
victim in this murderous tragedy, that no 
one labored more efficiently than he, in the 
organization of the present federal govern- 
ment. At the age of nineteen he entered 
tlie revolutionary army, and in 1777 was 
appointed aid-de-camp cf General Wash- 
iiigton,witli tlie rank of lieutenant-colonel. 
MOKUME>T To-^EXA-NDEu iiAMiLTo^-: lu^this Capacity he served during the re- 

mainder of the war. and at tlie siege of Yorktown led in person the detacliment 
that carried by assaidt one of the British outworks. When his military services 
were no longer required, he commenced the study of the law, entered into its prac- 




128 



BURR AND HAMILTON DUEL. 



tice in New York, and soon rose to dis- 
tinction. In 1782, he was chosen a 
member of congress ; in 1787, a member of 
the convention tliat framed the federal 
constitution. Of this work, as profound as 
any, and more generally intelligible than 
most, that have been written on the science 
of government, the larger portion pro- 
ceeded from the pen of Hamilton. In 
political life, he was one of the strongest 
champions of the party which had Wash- 
ington at its head. In 1789, he was placed 
in the cabinet, as secretary of the treasury, 
and while in this position rendered the 
most efficient service to his country, bj' 
the establishment of an admirable system 
of national finance. During the insurrec- 
tion in Pennsylvania, when the people of 
the western counties took up arms against 
the general government, Hamilton was 
placed at the head of the government force 
destined to act against thorn ; the disturb- 
ances being quelled without bloodshed, ho 
resigned his post. His last appearance in 
military character was again by the side 




Aaron Burr was one year the senior of 
Hamilton, in point of age. His father was 
the Rev. Aaron Burr, the learned and d& 
vout president of Princeton college, and 



of Washington, in 1798, as second in com- 
mand of the army, which was to be called 
into service in case of hostilities with 
France. 




his mother the daughter of that eminent 
divine, Jonathan Edwards. Before Burr 
had reached his third year, however, he 
was an orphan. When twelve years of 
age he entered college, graduating at six- 
teen with the highest reputation. In 
1775, while a student of law, he joined the 
American army under Washington, and 
such was his ardor in his country's cause, 
that he joined Arnold as a volunteer in 
the expedition against Quebec. After his 
arrival there he was appointed aid-de-camp 
to Montgomery, and was by the side of 
that brave officer when he fell. Subse- 
quentl}', in 1776, he was received by 
Wa;shington as one of his military family, 
but was soon cast off by that stern moral- 
ist in consequence of his debaucherj'. 
This act of Washington, Burr never for- 
gave. His unquestioned military talents, 
however, secured for him the high position 
of lieutenant-colonel in 1777, which he re- 
tained until 1779, when he was obliged to 
relinquish it on account of ill-health. De- 
voting himself to law, he early became one 
of the greatest lawyers in New York, oi 
which state he was. made attorney-general 
in 1789. From 1791 to 1797, he was a 
United States senator. In 1800, he was a 



BUKR AND HAMILTON DUEL. 



129 



candidate for tlie presidency, and received 
the same number of votes as Thomas Jef- 
ferson ; tlie choice thus went to congress, 
which, on the thirty-sixth ballot, elected 
Jefferson president and Burr vice-presi- 
dent. In his personal appearance. Burr 
is described as having been, in the prime 
of his manhood, a small but well-formed, 
fair-complexioned, fascinating man; his 
face was handsome, by some described as 
striking, and eyes jet-black and uncom- 
monly brilliant and piercing. In public 
he had an air of eminent authority, but in 
the drawing-room his manner was singu- 
larly graceful, gentle, and winning. He 
was a wit, a beau, a good scholar, a pol- 
ished gentleman, an unscrupulous lawyer 
and politician, and a libertine in morals. 
But whoever would read, in all its varied 
detail, the life of this wonderful man, 
must consult the biographies of him by 
Parton and Davis. 

The animosity between Burr and Ham- 
ilton, as the leaders, respectively, of the 
two great political parties, was very bitter. 
The history of this quarrel, in its immedi- 
ate bearing upon the fatal rencontre in 
which it finally culminated, is somewhat 
differently characterized by various biogra- 
phers, and perhaps not always impartially. 
Reviewing the matter from the date of 
Washington's death, the fact is brought to 
notice, that such was the number of seced- 
ers from the federal party after that un- 
looked-for event, that their opponents re- 
solved to adopt the bold policy of running 
two presidential candidates, in order thus 
to secure at least the election of a vice- 
president, and in this way, although a 
choice by the electoral colleges was not 
effected, the two candidates of the demo- 
cratic party were brought before the house 
of representatives with claims apparently 
equal. In the vote of this body by states, 
it soon appeared that the federal members 
had it in their power to determine which 
of the two, Jefferson or Burr, should be 
president. Many violent federal parti- 
sans were inclined to throw a brand of 
discord into the republican party, by con- 
ferring the dignity on Burr ; and he is 
9 



accused of intriguing with them for the 
purpose. 

It is believed that Burr, from this time 
forth, became Hamilton's mortal foe, and 
watched for an occasion to get rid of such 
a rival. In the careful account given by 
Hildreth, of the subsequent progress of 
this feud, — a portion of which is here cited, 
— he mentions, primarily, the two well- 
known letters written by Dr. Cooper, a 
zealous partisan, in one of which it is 
alleged that Hamilton had spoken of Burr 
as a dangerous man, who ought not to be 
trusted with the reins of government. In 
the other letter, after repeating the above 
statement. Cooper added that he could de- 
tail a still more despicable opinion which 
General Hamilton had expressed of Mr. 
Burr. 

Upon this latter passage, the historian 
asserts. Burr seized as the means of forcing 
Hamilton into a duel. For his agent and 
assistant therein he selected William Pi 
Van Ness, a j'oung lawyer, one of his most 
attached partisans, and not less dark, de- 
signing, cool, and implacable than himself. 
Van Ness was sent to Hamilton with a 
copy of Cooper's printed letter, and a note 
from Burr, insisting upon a prompt and 
unqualified acknowledgment or denial of 
the use of any expressions which would 
warrant Cooper's assertions. 

Hamilton expressed a perfect readiness to 
avow or disavow any specific opinion which 
he might be charged with ha%'ing uttered ; 
but added that he never would consent to be 
interrogated generally as to whether he had 
ever said anything in the course of fifteen 
years of political competition to justify in- 
ferences which others might have drawn, 
thus exposing his candor and sincerity to 
injurious imputations on the part of all 
who might have misapprehended him. 

" More than this," said Hamilton in the 
conclusion of his letter to Burr, " can not 
fitly be expected of me ; especially, it can 
not be reasonably expected that I shall 
enter into any explanations upon a basis 
so vague as that j^ou have adopted. I 
trust, on more reflection, you will see the 
matter in the same light. If not, I can 



130 



BURR AND HAMILTON DUEL. 



only regret the circumstance, and must 
abide the consequences." 

Burr's curt, rude, and offensive reply 
began with intimating that Hamilton's 
better was greatly deficient in that sincer- 
ity and delicacy which he professed so 
much to value. The epithet in question, 
in the common understanding of it, im- 
plied dishonor. It having been afiixed to 
Burr's name upon Hamilton's authority, 
he was bound to say whether he had au- 
thorized it, either directly, or by uttering 
expressions or opinions derogatory to 
Burr's honor. 

It was apparent from this letter, and it 
was subsequently distinctly stated by Van 
Ness, that what Burr required was a gen- 
eral disavowal on the part of Hamilton, of 
any intention, in any conversation he 
might ever have held, to convey impres- 
sions derogatory to the honor of Burr. 
Desirous to deprive Burr of any possible 
excuse for persisting in liis murderous 
designs, Hamilton caused a paper to be 
transmitted to him, through Pendleton, a 
brother lawyer, who acted as his friend in 
this matter, to the effect that, if properly 
addressed — for Burr's second letter was 
considered too insulting to admit of a reply 
— he should be willing to state that the 
conversation alluded to by Dr. Cooper, so 
far as he could recall it, was wholly in re- 
lation to politics, and did not touch upon 
Burr's private character ; nor should he 
hesitate to make an equally prompt avowal 
or disavowal as to anj' other particular and 
specific conversation concerning which he 
might be questioned. 

But as Burr's only object was to find a 
pretext for a challenge, — since he never 
could have expected the general disavowal 
he demanded, this offer was pronounced 
unsatisfactory and evasive ; and again, a 
second time, disavowing in the same breath 
the charge made against him of predeter- 
mined hostilit}', Burr requested Van Ness 
to deliver a challenge. 

The eleventh of July, at seven in the 
morning, was the time mutually agreed 
upon for the duel ; the place, Weehawken, 
New Jersey, opposite the city of New York ; 



the weapons to be pistols, and the distance 
ten paces. In the meantime, Hamilton and 
Burr met once more at the convivial board, 
namely, at the annual banquet of the Soci- 
ety of the Cincinnati, of which Hamilton 
was president and Burr a member. It is 
related that on this occasion Hamilton was 
cheerful, and at times merry. He was 
urged, as the feast wore awaj', to sing the 
only song he ever sang or knew, the 
famous old ballad of "The Drum." It 
was thought afterward, that he was more 
reluctant than usual to comply with the 
company's request ; but after some delay, 
he said, " Well, j'ou shall have it," and 
sang it in his best manner, greatly to the 
delight of the old soldiers by whom he 
was surrounded. Burr, on the contrary, 
was reserved, and mingled little with the 
company, and held no intercourse what- 
ever with the president. He was never a 
fluent man, and was generally', in the soci- 
ety of men, more a listener than a talker. 
On this occasion, his silence was, there- 
fore, the less remarked ; yet it was re- 
marked. It was observed, too, that he 
paid no attention to Hamilton's conversa- 
tion, nor, indeed, looked toward him, until 
he struck up his song, when Burr turned 
toward him, and, leaning upon the table, 
looked at the singer until the song was 
done. 

The fatal morning came. Colonel Burr 
arrived first on the ground, as had been 
previously agreed. He deliberately took 
off his coat, surve3ed the ground, and 
then cleared away the bushes, limbs of 
trees, etc. When General Hamilton ar- 
rived, the parties exchanged salutations, 
and the seconds proceeded to make their 
arrangements. They measured the dis- 
tance, full ten paces, and cast lots for the 
choice of jJOsition, as also to determine by 
whom the word should be given, both of 
which fell to the seconds of Hamilton. 
They then proceeded to load the pistols in 
each other's presence, after which the 
parties took their stations. 

The gentleman who was to give the 
word now explained to the parties the 
rules which were to govern them in firing, 



BURR AND HAMILTON DUEL. 



131 



^^»-^^^gf ; J.' ^ 




SCEXE OF THE BURR AND HAMILTON' DITEL, WEEHAWKKK. 



which were as follows : * The parties being 
placed at their stations, the second who 
gives the word shall ask them whether 
they are ready ; being answered in the 
affirmative, he shall say Present; after 
this, the parties shall present and fire 
^vhen they please. If one fires before 
the other, the opposite second shall saj', 
One, two, three, fire ; — and he shall then 
fire, or lose his fire.' He then asked if 
they were prepared; being answered in 
the affirmative, he gave the word Present, 
as had been agreed on, and both parties 
presented and fired in succession. The 
fire of Burr took effect ; Hamilton sprang 
upon his toes with a convulsive movement, 



reeled a little toward the heights, at which 
moment he involuntarily discharged his 
pistol, and then fell headlong upon his face, 
and remained motionless upon the ground. 
His ball rustled among the branches, seven 
feet above the head of his antagonist, and 
four feet wide of him. Burr heard it, 
looked up, and saw where it had severed a 
twig. Looking at Hamilton, he beheld 
him falling, and advanced towards him 
with a manner and gesture that appeared 
to be expressive of regret, but without 
speaking turned about and withdrew, 
being urged from the field by his friend. 
No further communication took place be- 
tween the principals, and the barge that 



132 



BURR A:ND HAMILTON DUEL. 



carried Colonel Burr immediately left the 
Jersey shore for New York. 

Hamilton was at once borne aw9y ten- 
derly in the arms of Pendleton, and his 
necessities ministered to by Dr. Hosack. 
He had, at this moment, just strength 
enough to say, "This is a mortal wound, 
doctor ; " when he sank away, and became 
to all appearance lifeless. " My vision is 
indistinct," were his first words. Soon 
after recovering his sight, he happened to 
cast his eye upon the case of pistols, and 
observing the one he had used lying on 
the outside, he said : 

" Take care of that pistol ; it is undis- 
charged, and still cocked ; it may go off 
and do harm ; — Pendleton knows (attempt- 
ing to turn his head towards him) that I 
did not intend to fire at him." 

" Yes, I have already made Dr. Hosack 
acquainted with your determination as to 
that," replied Pendleton. 

On approaching the shore, he said, " Let 
Mrs. Hamilton be immediately sent for ; 
let the event be gradually broken to her ; 
but give her hopes." His friend, Mr. 
Bayard, stood on the wharf in great agita- 
tion, and, on seeing Hamilton lying in the 
bottom of the boat, he threw up his arms 
and burst into a flood of tears and lamen- 
tation. Hamilton alone appeared tranquil 
and composed. On being jjut to bed, a 
consultation of physicians was held, who 
united in the opinion that there was no 
chance of his recovery. General Key, the 
French consul, also had the goodness to 
invite the surgeons of the French frigates 
then in New York harbor, as they had had 
much experience in gun-shot wounds, to 
render their assistance. They immedi- 
ately came, but their opinion was unani- 
mous as to the hopelessness of the case. 
The ball had struck the second or third 
false rib, and fractured it about the middle ; 
it then passed through the liver and 
the diaphragm, and as far as was sub- 
sequently ascertained, lodged in the first 
or second lumbar vertebra, the latter being 
considerably splintered, so that the spic- 
ule were perceptible to the touch of the 
finger. 



The news of Hamilton's fall, and prob- 
ably speedy death, by a duel with the vice- 
president of the United States, paralyzed 
the whole nation, as the shocking intelli- 
gence sped itself over the country. In 
New York, esjpecially, bulletins, hourly 
changed, kept the city in agitation. All 
the circumstances of the catastrophe were 
told, and re-told, at every corner. The 
thrilling scenes that were passing at the 
bedside of the dying man, the consultation 
of the physicians, the arrival of the stricken 
family, Mrs. Hamilton's overwhelming 
sorrow, the resignation and calm dignity 
of the illustrious sufferer, his broken slum- 
bers during the night, the piteous specta- 
cle of the seven children entering together 
the awful apartment, — all these produced 
an hnpression on the public that can only 
be imagined. 

At General Hamilton's request. Bishop 
Moore and Rev. Dr. Mason visited him at 
his bedside. To the former he said : " My 
dear sir, you perceive my unfortunate sit- 
uation, and no doubt have been made 
acquainted with the circumstances which 
led to it. It is my desire to receive the 
communion at your hands. I hope you 
will not conceive there is any impropriety 
in my request. It has for some time past 
been the wish of my heart, and it was my 
intention to take an early opportunity of 
uniting myself to the church by the recep- 
tion of that holy ordinance." Bishop 
Moore observed to him, that he must be 
very sensible of the delicate and trying 
situation in which, as a minister, he was 
then placed; that however desirous he 
might be to afford consolation to a fellow 
mortal in distress, still it was his dvity as 
an ambassador of the gospel, to hold up the 
law of God as paramount to all other law, 
and that, therefore, he must unequivocally 
condemn the practice which had brought 
him to his present unhappy condition. 
Hamilton acknowledged the propriety of 
these sentiments, and added, " / have no 
ill-ivill against Colonel Burr. I met him 
ivith a fixed determination to do him no 
harm. I forgive all that happened." 
After some other religious conversation 



BURR AND HAMILTON DUEL. 



133 



incident to the occasion, he received the 
sacrament with great devotion, expressing 
strong confidence in divine mercy. In his 
interview with Dr. Mason, he exhibited 
the same spiritual conviction, and repeated 
the emphatic testimony he had given to 
Bishop Moore, against the barbarous 
custom of dueling. 

The next da^', Thursday, at eleven 
o'clock, being about thirty hours after 
receiving the fatal wound, Hamilton em- 
braced his wife for the last time, then 
calmly' composed himself to die, and ex- 
pired without a shudder or a groan, in the 
prime of his manhood, being forty-seven 
years of age. 

The death of this most illustrious states- 
man was universally deplored, as a na- 
tional calamitj^ second only to the death of 
Washington himself; and, indeed, on ac- 
count of the tragical circumstances under 
which the great patriot was brought to 
his end, the excitement produced through- 
out the country was, if possible, more 
startling and profound than that which 
followed the announcement of Washing- 
ton's decease. In the city of New York, 
the most imposing funeral ceremony ever 
witnessed in America revealed the unex- 
ampled grief that burdened the public 
mind. All business was suspended, the 
bells tolled in solemn requiem, public meet- 
ings of the various societies were held, the 
ships in the harbor hoisted their flags at 
half-mast, and sorrow was depicted on 
every countenance. 

The indignation against Burr knew no 
bounds. His fixed determination to bring 
Hamilton within range of his pistol, feel- 
ing " sure of being able to kill him," 
caused his act to be branded as willful 
murder, and an indictment was duly found 
against him ; but in a few days he fled, an 
outlaw and an outcast, and thus eluded 
justice. Burr's execrable heartlessness 
may be judged of, by the note written by 
him to Mr. Allston, his son-in-law, in which 



he said : " General Hamilton died yester- 
da3% The malignant federalists or tories, 
and the embittered Clintonians, unite in 
endeavoring to excite public sympathy in 
his favor and indignation against his an- 
tagonist. Thousands of absurd falsehoods 
are circulated with industry. The most 
illiberal means are practiced in order to 
produce excitement, and for the moment 
with effect." 

One week before the time fixed upon for 
the duel, Hamilton prepared a letter to his 
wife, to be handed to her in case of his 
death. In this affecting epistle, he assures 
her that he had striven by all honorable 
means to avoid the meeting, and expects 
to fall in it; he entreats her forgiveness 
for the calamity his death would bring 
upon her, and conjures her to meet the 
blow in calm submission to providence. 

Hamilton's widow, a woman of rare 
excellence and dignity, survived him some 
fifty years. Once only did she see her 
husband's murderer, the circumstances of 
this occasion being related as follows : In 
the year 1822, she was traveling from 
New York to Albany, on one of the 
boats plj'ing the Hudson. The com- 
pany had been summoned to dinner. 
When Mrs. Hamilton had almost reached 
her seat in the dining-saloon, on rais- 
ing her eyes she perceived Aaron Burr 
standing directly opposite to her, with 
only the narrow width of the table between 
them. The shock was too much for her 
system, — she uttered a loud scream, fell, 
and was carried in a fainting state from 
the apartment. As soon as she recovered, 
she insisted on being set on shore at the 
first landing-place, refusing to journey 
further in the same vessel with Burr. It 
is said, that, after the removal of Mrs. 
Hamilton from the dining saloon, Burr 
deliberately sat down and ate a hearty 
dinner with the utmost composure. This 
story, however, wears an air of improba- 
bility. 



XVI. 
TOTAL SOLAR ECLIPSE AT MID-DAT.— 1806. 



The Darkness of Night Falls upon the Earth. — Stars and Planets in Full Radiance — Magnificent Spec- 
tacle of the Glittering Corona around the Moon and the Brilliant Rosy Protuberances Flaming from 
the Sun. — Splendor of the Returning Night. — Similar Eclipse in 1869. — Millions of Faces Turned 
Upward. — The Phenomenon Viewed with Curiosity, Wonder, and Absorbed Delight. — Remarkably 
Fine Weather. — Serene and Cloudless Heavens. — Business Pursuits Abandoned. — The Moon Crossing 
the Sun. — Distinctness of the Lunar Orb. — Grand, Dark, Majestic, Mighty. — Total Obscurity Some 
Five Minutes. — Appearance of Nature. — Sensations Produced in the Mind. — Involuntary Exclama- 
tions. — Effect on Birds and Animals. — Triumphs of Astronomical Science — Exquisitely-Constructed 
Instruments. — Revelations of the Spectroscope. — Great Thermometrical Clianges. — Spots on the Sun 
Examined. — Openings in the Moon. — Peculiar Color of that Body. — Its Dark and Dismal Shadows. — 
Search for New Stars. — Meteors 'mid Earth and Moon. — Climax of the Impressive Scene. 




"Th« BTin'B rim flip^ ; the Btarn rush out 1 

With one etrido coined the durk I "— CuLEItlDOE. 



IMPLE and well known though the fact may be, according to the ex- 
]>lanations of astronomical science, that a solar eclipse is caused bj' the 
intervention of the moon between the sun and the earth during the 
daytime, and that the effect of such interposition is to obstruct the 
sun's rays — the liglit being turned into darkness while the phenome- 
non lasts — a total solar eclipse is, without doubt, the most sublime and awe-inspiring 
spectacle upon which the ej'e of man is permitted to gaze. By far the most remarkable 
exhibition of this kind, was that which occurred June 16, 1806, when the sun in the 
northern states was totally eclipsed nearly five minutes, about half an hour before noon, 
the width of the moon's shadow being about one hundred and fifty miles, or about 
seventy-five on each side of the central line. Since 1806, only one total eclipse of the 
sun occurred in the Atlantic States, namely in South Carolina and Georgia, November 
30, 1834; but the eclipse of June 16, 1806, is regarded by astronomers as the most 
memorable ever known in the United States, — that of August 7, 18G0, being the next 
in grandeur and interest. 

The accounts given by Chancellor De Witt, of New York, Dr. Bowditch, of Massa- 
chusetts, and others, of the phenomenon of 1806, show that its approach was most anx- 
iously watched, and, as it was to be seen all over Europe and North America, the gaze 
of the people of both hemispheres was, on that day, simultaneously directed toward the 
great luminary and center of the physical system. Some of the most remarkable observ- 
ations made by Dr. Bowditch, of Salem, Mass., will liere be given. 

Fortunately for the interests of science, the day was one of remark.ably fine weather, 
scarcely a cloud being visible in any part of the heavens. An assistant was seated 



TOTAL SOLAR ECLIPSE. 



135 



near the doctor, who counted the seconds 
from tlie chronometer, thus enabling Dr. 
Bowditch to mark down with a pencil the 
time when the first impression was made 
on the sun's limb, without taking his eye 
from the telescope till four or five seconds 
had elapsed, and the eclipse had sensibly 
increased. As the eclipse advanced, there 
did not appear to be so great a diminution 
of the light as was generally expected, and 
it was not until tlie sun was nearly cov- 
ered, that the darkness was very sensible. 
At thirty-seven minutes and thirty seconds 
past eleven o'olock, the sun's surface was 
wholly covered. The last ray of light from 
the sun's limb disappeared instantaneously. 
The whole of the moon was then seen sur- 
rounded by a luminous appearance of con- 
siderable extent, such as had generally 
been noticed in total eclipses of the sun. 
This luminosity, with a twilight bright- 
ness round the horizon, prevented the 
darkness from being any greater than it 
was, during the time that the sun's sur- 
face remained wholly covered. The de- 
gree of light can be estimated, on such an 
occasion, by the number of stars visible to 
the naked eye ; those noticed at this time 
were Capella, Aldebaran, Sirius, Procyon, 
the three bright stars in the belt of Orion, 



f 



i[l|lllllllllllllll llllllllllllllIIIII|liU|| 




>LAIt ECLirSK IN INIII 



and the star a in its shoulder. Venus 
and Mars were also visible. A candle had 
been provided to assist in reading off the 
seconds from the chronometer, but, though 
it was not found necessary in the garden 
where these observations were made, it 
would have been in the house adjoining. 



As the time drew near for witnessing the 
end of the total darkness, there was no- 
ticed a visible increase of light in the at- 
mosphere for about two seconds before any 
part of the sun's limb was visible in the 
telescope ; but at thirty-two minutes and 
eighteen seconds past eleven o'clock — the 
time noted as that of the end of total 
darkness, — the light burst forth with 
great splendor. After this, the light «.\>- 
peared to increase much faster than it 
had decreased, and in a short time it 
was as light as in a common cloudy day, 
the degree of light continually increas- 
ing, of course, as the eclipse drew to a 
close. 

The impressions made by such an exhi- 
bition, upon different minds, are not the 
least interesting points, in a narrative like 
this. Mr. Cooper, the novelist, though 
but a youth at the time of the eclipse, was 
so enthusiastic an observer of the specta- 
cle, that, twenty-five years after the event, 
he wrote a minute account of what he 
saw and how he felt during the wonderful 
occurrence. Mr. Cooper states that, as he 
and the other spectators in his company 
first discerned, through their glasses, the 
oval form of the moon darkening the 
sun's light, an exclamation of delight, al- 
most triumphant, burst involuntarily from 
the lips of all. Gradually, and at first 
quite imperceptibly to the sight, that dark 
and mysterious sphere gained upon the 
orb of light. As yet (continues Mr. 
Cooper), there was no change perceptible 
in the sunlight falling upon lake and 
mountain ; the familiar scene wore its 
usual smiling aspect, bright and glowing 
as on other days of June. The people, 
however, were now crowding into the 
streets, — their usual labors were abandoned 
— forgotten for the moment, — and all faces 
were turned upward. Gradually a fifth, 
and even a fourth, of the sun's disc be- 
came obscured, and still the unguarded 
eye could not endure the flood of light. 
The noonday heat, however, began to 
lessen, and something of the coolness of 
early morning returned to the valley. 
Soon, a somber, yellowish, unnatural color- 



136 



TOTAL SOLAR ECLIPSE. 



ing -was shed over the country. A great 
change had taken place. The trees on the 
distant heights had lost their verdure and 
their airy character, and were taking the 
outline of dark pictures graven upon an 
unfamiliar sky. 

The startling effect of such an abnormal 
transition iu nature, upon animals and 




PROGRESS OF TilK SOLAR ECLIPSE. 

fowls, and even upon human beings, has 
sometimes been described in such a 
manner as to excite well-grounded suspi- 
cions of exaggeration, in the minds of 
those persons to whom has been denied 
the opportunity of personal observation. 
But Mr. Cooper states that "all living 
creatures seemed throw^l into a state of 
agitation. The birds were fluttering to 
and fro, in great excitement; they seemed 
to mistrust th;\t this was not the gradual 
approach of evening, and were undecided 
in their movements. Even the dogs be- 
came uneasy, and drew closer to their mas- 
ters. The eager, joj'ous look of interest 
and curiosity, which earlier in the morning 
had appeared in almost every countenance, 
was now changed to an expression of won- 
der, or anxiety, or thoughtful ness, accord- 
ing to the individual character. Every 
house now gave up its tenants. As the 
light failed more and more with everj' pass- 
ing second, the children came flocking 
about their mothers in terror. The women 
themselves were looking about uneasily for 
their husbands. The men were very gen- 
erally silent and grave. Many a laborer 
left his employment to be near his wife 
and children, as the dimness and darkness 



increased. It was one of those entirely un- 
clouded days, less rare in America than in 
Europe. The steadily-waning light, the 
gradual approach of darkness, became the 
more impressive as wo observed this abso- 
lutely transparent state of the heavens. The 
birds, which a quarter of an hour earlier 
had been fluttering about in great agita- 
tion, seemed now to be convinced that 
night was at hand. Swallows were dimly 
seen dropping into the chimnej-s, the 
martins returned to their little boxes, the 
pigeons flew home to their dove-cots, and 
through the open door of a small barn we 
saw the fowls going to roost. The usual 
flood of sunlight had now become so much 
weakened, that we could look upward long, 
and steadily, without the least pain. The 
sun appeared Hke a j'oung moon of three 
or four da}"s old, though of course with a 
larger and more brilliant crescent. One 
after another, the stars came into view, 
more rapidly than in the evening twilight, 
until perhaps fifty stars appeared to us, in 
a broad dark zone of the heavens, crown- 
ing the pines on the western mountain. 
This wonderful vision of the stars, during 
the noontide hours of daj-, filled the spirit 
with singular sensations. Suddenly, one 
of my brothers shouted aloud, " The 
moon ! " Quicker than thought, mj- eye 
turned eastward again, and there floated 
the moon, distinctly apparent, to a degree 
that was almost fearful. The spherical 
form, the character, the dignity, the sul>- 
ctance of the planet, were clearl3- revealed, 
as I have never beheld them before, or 
since. It looked grand, dark, majestic, 
and mighty. Darkness like that of early 
night now fell upon the village. A few 
cows, believing that night had overtaken 
them, were coming homeward from the 
wild open pastures ; the dew was falling 
perceptibly, and the thermometer must 
have fallen many degrees from the great 
heat of the morning. The lake, the hills, 
and the buildings of the little town, were 
swallowed up in the darkness. All labor 
had ceased. The plaintive note of the 
whippowil was distinctly heard. A bat 
came flitting about our heads. Many stars 



TOTAL SOLAR ECLIPSE. 



137 



were now visible. At twelve minutes past 
eleven, the moon stood revealed in its 
greatest distinctness — a vast black orb, so 
nearly obscuring the sun that the face of 
the great luminary was entirely and abso- 
lutely darkened, though a corona of rays 
of light appeared beyond. The gloom of 
night was upon us. A breathless intensity 
of interest was felt by all. A group of 
silent, dusky forms stood near me; one 
emotion appeared to govern all. Three 
minutes of darkness, all but absolute, 
elapsed. They appeared strangely' length- 
ened by the intensity of feeling, and the 
flood of overpowering thought which filled 
the mind." Mr. Cooper concludes this 
record of his pleasing recollections, by 
stating some of the appearances accompa- 
nj'ing the restoration of light, and the 
joyous manifestations on the part of those 
who witnessed it. 

The calculations made and recorded by 
Bowditch, show that the beginning of the 
eclipse was at six minutes and twenty-four 
seconds past ten o'clock ; the beginning of 
total darkness was at twenty-five minutes 
and twenty-six seconds past eleven, and 
it ended at thirty minutes and fourteen 
seconds past eleven ; the eclipse ended 
at fifty minutes and forty-two seconds 
past twelve ; duration of the eclipse, two 
hours, forty-four minutes, eighteen sec- 
onds ; duration of the total darkness, four 
minutes and forty-eight seconds. In the 
engraved representation of this magnifi- 
cent and solemn spectacle, the luminous 
ring round the moon is exactly as it ap- 
peared in the middle of the eclipse. The 
edge of the moon was strongly illumin- 
ated, exhibiting the brilliancy of polished 
silver. 

But, though the eclipse of 1806 was, at 
least in the duration of its totality, mem- 
orable above all precedent, to American 
observers, the total eclipse of August sev- 
enth, 1869, was destined to be more im- 
portant in a scientific point of view, and to 
fill a more prominent place in history, on 
account of the great progress in astronomi- 
cal knowledge and the corresponding im- 
provement in all the instruments of tele- 



scopic observation, characterizing the laps© 
of more than three-score years. 

Beginning in the Pacific ocean, just east 
of Yeddo, the capital of Japan, at sunrise 
there, the shadow's central point first 
struck the earth in the Altair mountain 
range in Russian Asia, one hundred and 
sixty-five and a half degrees west from 
Washington, then passing in a northward 
curve still, entered United States territory 
in Alaska, near Prince William's sound, 
at the hour of noon. Thence it rapidly 
traversed British Columbia, hit the center 
of Montana's northern line, struck the 
Mississippi river near Sioux City, Iowa, 
passed through Illinois just north of 
Springfield, shaded segments of Indiana, 
Kentucky, Virginia, Tennessee, and North 
Carolina, and ended its totality in mid- 
ocean. The course of the eclipse was in 
the form of an ellipse, and the extreme 
limits of the obscuration embraced nearly 
one-half the earth's circumference ; while 
the central circular patch of darkness was 
about one hundred and fifty-six miles in 
diameter. 

Never were more extensive preparations 
made by governments and men of science, 
to have thorough observations of a solar 




TOTAL ECLIPSE IN 18(JL). 

eclipse, than at this time, and never was 
the weather more propitious for su. h an 
event to be noted, in all its phenomena. 

At Springfield, Illinois, one of the most 
available spots for observation. Professor 
Peirce, of Harvard College, was in attend- 
ance. AVlien the total obscuration took 
place, the heavens and earth presented a 



138 



TOTAL SOLAR ECLIPSE. 



scene of awful sublimity. A brilliant 
amber-colored corona appeared around the 
8un and moon, shooting rays of light out- 
ward in all directions, when the whole hori- 
zon was illuminated with light of the same 
color. The planets Mercury and Venus, and 
a number of fixed stars, were distinctly visi- 
ble, but no planetary orbs between Mercury 
and the sun were discovered. A brilliant 
rose-colored flame, or protuberance, was 
noticed on the western limb of the sun dur- 
ing the period of total obscuration. The 
phenomenon, known as Bailey's beads, was 
also distinctly %yitnessed. According to 
Prof. Peirce, the last-named appearance is 
occasioned by the refraction of liglit, and 
the corona, or halo, at the time of totality, 
by the sun's atmosphere. 

Des Moines, Iowa, afforded another most 
favorable locality for the presence of 
astronomers, a slight haze only interfering 
to prevent satisfactory search for the plan- 
ets sujiposed to exist inside the orbit of 
Mercury. Professor Safford's observations 
showed that the first contact occurred at 
three o'clock, forty-three minutes, fortj'- 
three seconds ; the commencement of the 
total obscurity was at four o'clock, forty- 
five minutes, thirty seconds, and its end 
was at four o'clock, forty-eight minutes, 
twenty-two seconds ; the last contact was 
at five o'clock, forty-five minutes, eleven 
seconds. 

The points of time thus noted by Pro- 
fessor Safford, were from six to twenty- 
two seconds later than calculated, according 
to Washington ; E. P. Himenas and Pro- 
fessor Hillyard observing it. A discrep- 
ancy was also noticed between the calcu- 
hition and observation of the corona. It 
was nearly rhomboidal in form, and very 
distinct and extended, at some points half 
a degree beyond tlie edge of the sun's 
disc. The rose-colored protuberances ap- 
peared to the number of five or six, the 
greatest being on the sun's south-western 
quarter. Professor Harkness's observa- 
tions of the protuberances, in the spectro- 
scope, showed a different spectra for each. 
But a single band was thrown by the cor- 
ona. Prof jssor Eastman's observations of 



the thermometer showed a fall of thirteen 
degrees in the temperature, during the 
progress of the eclipse. Venus and Mer- 
cury could be plainly seen, and the dark- 
ness exceeded that of the night. But the 
most interesting feature in the aspect of 
the sun was the protuberances or beads. 
The largest one was semi-circular in shape, 
with a finger extending about one-eighth 
jiart of the sun's diameter, directly down- 
ward as one looked. Another right limb 
was shaped much like two horns cf an ante- 
lope. The greatest length of the corona 
was in the direction of the elliptic. Valu- 
able observations were also made here by 
Professors Peters, Eraser, Rogers, Norton, 
and Lane. 

Professors Hough and Murray made 
some valuable observations at Mattoon, 
Illinois, one of their instruments being pro- 
vided with means for accurately measuring 
the diversions of the protuberances on the 
sun or corona. AMien the sun became 
totally obscured, the darkness was equal to 
that of a moonlight night, and the temper- 
ature was forty-two degrees cooler than one 
hour before. Six spots were visible on the 
surface of the sun before the eclipse, two 
of which were very prominent, and the 
others much less. The cusps on the moon 
had a ragged and blurred appearance, and, 
near them, Bailey's beads were seen by all 
observers, extending through an arc of 
fifty degrees. The moment the eclipse 
became total, the flame-like protuberances 
were seen with wonderful distinctness, one 
very large on the lower limb of the sun, 
and three nearly as large on the upper 
limbs, while at least seven or eight of 
them in all were visible. The one on the 
right hand, or lower limb, had somewhat 
the appearance of a full-rigged ship with 
sails set. In its part nearest the moon 
were two or three jet black spots. To the 
naked eye, it seemed as though there were 
openings in the moon, two on the east side 
and one on the south-west side. Just after 
the total obscurity, through the openings, 
the lurid glow of the sun was plainly visi- 
ble. The corona was not, as generally 
described, a halo of light surrounding the 



TOTAL SOLAR ECLIPSE. 



130 



moon, but appearpii in the shape of five 
forked prongs on the upper circumference 
of the moon. These points presented a 
railiant appearance. The generally-re- 
ceived theory regarding this corona — that 
it is the atmosphere of the sun — did not 
seem to be sustained by the observations 
made at this point. Although search was 
made, no planetary bodies were observed 
liatween Mercury and the sun. During the 
totality phase, Mei-cury, Venus, Eegulus, 
Mars, Saturn, Denebata, and other stars, 
appeared in full view. The temperature 
in the shade, at the beginning of the 
eclipse, was seventy-seven degrees ; during 
the totality, forty-five degrees ; and at the 
end of the eclipse, it had risen to seventy 
degrees. At three o'clock and forty min- 
utes, in the sun, on the grass, the ther- 
mometer was at one hundred degrees. At 
a few minutes after four, it rose to one 
hundred and two degrees, while during the 
totality it fell to sixty, but subsequently 
rose to eighty. 

Dr. B. A. Gould and Professor Coffin 
had charge of the observations made at 
Burlington, Iowa, by direction of the 
United States government, with whom 
were also associated Professors Morton, 
Mayer, Hines, Watson, Merriman, Van 
Fleck, Johnson, and others, either as oIj- 
servers or visitors. Two points were paid 
special attention to at this place, namely, 
a search for those planets which Leverrier 
supposed to exist between the sun and 
Mercury, and the character of the corona. 

For this purpose, a telescope of peculiar 
construction was emploj'ed, being of the 
least magnifying power combined with the 
greatest intensity of light possible. The 
attempts at measuring the corona were 
necessarily vague, but its height above the 
edge of the moon was computed at full six- 
teen minutes, — some four hundred and 
forty thousand miles, — while the stream- 
ers, or longer projections of its light, 
extended some thirty minutes bej'ond the 
surface, the whole diameter of the sun 
being thirty-two minutes. The color of 
the moon during the total obscuration was 
observed, and decided to be not jet black. 



as represented by some, but a dark slate 
color. The corona was an exquisitely pure 
white, which, as it faded into the dark 
background of the skj^, became gray. It 
was visible one minute and twenty-six 
seconds before totality, and one minute 
after, and was extremely variable in sym- 
metry of form. Three sketches were 
taken in less than three minutes of the 
duration, in which the corona showed 
marked change of outline. The protuber- 
ances commonlj' called rosy, by observers 
at other places, here looked white to the 
naked ej'e, with an operarglass slightly ro- 
seate, and with the telescope red. At the 
moment of totality, the planets were visi- 
ble, ranged in perfect brilliancy ; Mercury, 
ruddy as Mars, and Arcturus and Eegulus, 
fixed stars of the first magnitude, were 
plain to the unassisted eye. The right 
protuberance on the sun's lower limb had 
a cellular or honey-combed appearance, not 
like a flame. 

In the search made at Burlington for 
intra-mercurial planets, the light was shut 
off of the corona by means of occulting 
circles, and the region was carefully stud- 
ied. Search was made for the star Pi Le- 
onis, a fixed star of five and eight-tenths 
magnitude, fifty minutes distance from the 
sun, and it was actually seen, yet so faint, 
that, if it had not been known to be there, 
it could not have been discovered. If 
there were any star of the fifth or sixth 
magnitude there, it would have been 
observed ; but no such star could be 
detected. 

Great preparations were made at Shel- 
bj-ville, Kentucky, for a complete observ- 
ance of the phenomenon. One of the 
most interesting discoveries made here, by 
Professor Winlock, at the spectroscope, 
was that of eleven bright lines in the 
spectrum of the protuberances of the sun, 
instead of the smaller number hitherto 
determined. He also observed a shower 
of meteors between the earth and moon. 
The beautiful protuberances appeared as 
red flames, and were seen by the naked 
eye. Bailey's beads, as well as the dark 
and dismal shadows of the moon, sailing 



140 



TOTAL SOLAR ECLIPSE. 



away through the air, were noted. Mr. 
Searle, wliose specialty it was to search 
for iiitra-mercurial jilanets, did not succeed 
in finding any, reporting nothing fainter 
than Regains near the sun. Some mo- 
ments before the. total phase, the usual 
phenomena of distraction among the birds 
of the air and the cattle occurred. Six 
minutes before totality, a deathly ashen 
hue overspread the countenances of all, 




ECLIPSE, AS SEEN IN BRAZIL. 

and for a while the faint-hearted were 
almost terrified. The general phenomena 
at all the places where the eclipse was 
complete, or nearly so, were the vacilla- 
tion of the wind, the deep, strange shadow, 
the yellowish pink atmosphere in the west, 
the flickering and wavy appearance of the 
sun's rays when the eclipse was at its 
height, the chilly feeling, the disturbance 
among the birds and fowls, and the sight 
of certain planets with the naked eye. 

At Newbern, North Carolina, the ther- 
mometer fell ten and one-half degrees, 
during the time from first contact to total 
obscuration. The sky was intensely blue, 
»t totality, and studded with glittering 
stars, while the north-west glowed with a 
deep crimson orange hue. Around the 
black body of the moon glowed a ring of 
molten silver, whence radiated the corona, 
an immense halo; and, just as the last 
rays of the sun disappeared, this halo, 
with prominent projections like a huge 
star, burst out all around the disc of the 
moon, forming a most impressive climax 
to the whole phenomenon ; directly at the 
bottom, glowed with intense brilliancy a 



rose-colored projection, visible to the naked 
eje ; a few seconds more, and another 
glittered at the extreme right — and then 
another, and, successive!}-, six or more 
pale ruby brilliants burned with dazzling 
effulgence in their silver setting; a second 
or two more, and the silvering on the right 
melted into golden beads; another, and 
the glorious sunlight flashed forth. The 
corona disappeared. The northern sky 
was radiant with a new day-break at six 
o'clock in the afternoon, the dark shadow 
of the moon swept southward, and the 
chilly gloominess rolled away into the 
southern sky. The small amount of light 
that fell upon the trees and buildings, just 
before and after the total obscuration, 
lighted them up with a brilliancy most 
peculiar; the light was more diffusive 
than moonlight, and the shadows were 
more distinctly marked and visible. It 
was a pale golden light ; the edges of the 
distant woods were more apparent than in 
the full sunlight, each tree seeming to 
stand out by itself, — the nearest approach 
to such a light being that known as the 
calcium, the latter, however, being white 
instead of pale golden. At the instant of 
complete obscuration, when the corona 
flashed around the dark disc of the moon, 
there also flashed into view the larger stars 
and planets. Venus, twice an evening 
star in one day, hung half-way down from 
the zenith ; near the sun glistened a star 
of the first magnitude, Eegiilus ; while 
overhead the intense blue sky was full of 
them. 

Much scientific interest centered around, 
the expedition sent by government to the 
new and distant territory of Alaska. This 
expedition left Sitka, July 15th, in an 
open boat, for the Chilkah river, but, in 
consequence of bad weather, it was eleven 
days in reaching the positions selected — 
only twenty miles from the central path of 
totality. It was found impracticable to 
carry the instruments and provisions over 
Iron Mountain range, for the determina^ 
tion of the latitude and longitude and the 
magnetic variation obtained, before the 
date of the eclipse. The seventh of 



TOTAL SOLAE ECLIPSE. 



141 



August was the cloudiest day experienced, 
but breaks in the clouds enabled the party 
to watch different phases, and the begin- 
ning of totality was accurately noted. In- 
stantly after obscuration, rose-colored 
flames were visible to the unassisted eye, 
and tlieir extent, position, elevation, and 
approximity, measured on the south-east 
and south-west parts of the sun's limb. 
Tiie corona was visible over a part of the 
limb only. The end of the eclipse was not 
seen, but the whole picture was magnifi- 
cent. The phenomena of coming darkness 
and growing light were very marked along 
the course of the valley. The Hon. W. 
H. Seward, and his accompanying tourists, 
visited Professor Davidson's camp, and 
watched with intense interest and solemn 
delight the phases of the eclipse, particu- 
larly the rose-colored flames and corona. 
A party at the mouth of the river had the 
best view of the totality ; the clouds broke, 
and a large clear space enabled them to see 
the flames and corona, in their marvelous 
beauty, also the planet Mercury, and stars 
of the fourth magnitude. At Sitka, the 
eclipse was watched through broken 
clouds. The Indians were fearfully 
alarmed, and hid themselves in their 
houses, or took to the bushes. 

As usual, ou the occurrence of such a 



wonderful sight, some strange incidents 
transpired. In his account of the observa- 
tions made by Professor Watson, at Mount 
Pleasant, Iowa, Professor Tyler narrates 
the case of a good man who went round 
the town for days beforehand, and de- 
nounced the impiety of the scientific pro- 
ceedings going on — that the astronomers 
were profanely attempting to pry into 
God's secrets, and that he had veiled his 
sun in order to bafile them. The cloudy 
weather which continued up to the last 
day seemed to give some support to his 
declarations ; but, notwithstanding his 
assertion that God would keep his rain 
a-going, and prevent the use of their irre- 
ligious telescopes, the day cleared off with 
the utmost splendor. Another local 
prophet announced that the eclipse was a 
judgment upon the world for its abomina- 
tions, and that the path of its shadow over 
the earth would be marked by utter blight. 
But these deluded prophets of evil were, 
indeed, rare exceptions ; millions of man- 
kind watched, with reverential and de- 
lighted satisfaction, the obedience of the 
two great luminaries to the eternal laws 
which govern their existence; and Science, 
the hand-maid and interpreter of Nature, 
gave new assurance of her sublime and 
beneficent mission. 



XVII. 
CONSPIRACY AND TRIAL OF AARON BURR.— 1806. 



Lawless Scheme of Conquest and Dominion at the South-west. — A New Empire Contemplated, 
with Burr as Sovereign. — Seizure of His Flotilla and Dispersion of His Men when Ready 
to Embark, by the Federal Forces. — Capture and Arraignment of Burr for High Trea- 
son. — Reckless Character of Burr. — His Unscrupulous Ambitions. — Enlists Blennerhassett in 
His Plans. — Their Expedition Arranged — Mexico the Ultimate Point. — Discovery of the 
Whole Plot. — Its Complete Frustration. — Burr Flees in Disguise.— Scene at His Arrest. — 
Attempt to F,.<;cape. — The Irnn-hearted Man in Tears. — His Social Fascination. — Preparations 

for the Trial.— Its Legal and Forensic In- 
terest. — Acquittal on Technical Grounds. — 
Shunned as a Man of Infamy. — Devotion of 
His Daughter Theodosia — Lifelong and Un- 
alterable Love — Her Mysterious Fate. — 
Burr's Anguish and Agony. — A Moral 
Wreck and Warning. 




" Ilio country's curse, hie children* 
Outcael of virtue, pence, and fume. 



S events proved, it remained for Aaron Burr to add one more 
political crime to his corrupt career as a public man, and one 
more dark chapter to his country's history. Staggering under the weight of ob- 
loquy and disgrace brought down upon him by his cold-blooded disposal of Alex- 
ander Hamilton, on the fatal plains of Weehawken, he still sought some means of 
triumf)hing over his enemies and attaining distinction and power. Strong and 
resolute in the operations of his ever-active mind, his ambition was equally restless 
and far-reaching. Abandoned by his once-admiring political associates, he became an 
exile, in one of the then far-off western states, his brain teeming with schemes of 
wealth, conquest, and dominion. 

In the autumn of 1806, President Jefferson learned that mj'sterious proceedings 
were going on along the Ohio : boats preparing, stores of provisions collecting, and 
a number of suspicious characters in movement. A confidential agent sent by the 
government authorities to the spot, warned the president that Burr was the prime 
mover; and General Wilkinson, who commanded near New Orleans, intimated that 
propositions of a daring and dangerous import had been transmitted to him by 
that personage. The ostensible pretext was, the forming of a large agricultural 
settlement on the banks of the Washita in Louisiana, a tributary of the Mississippi ; 
but the various preparations, the engagement for six months only, the purchase 
and building of boats, the provision of muskets and bayonets, pointed to something 
of a very different character — either the formation of the western territory into a 
separate government, or an expedition acrainst Mexico, sought to be justified by a 



CONSPIRACY AND TRIAL OF BURR. 



143 



boundary difference that liad arisen with 
Spain. In fact, the erection of a new 
empire, with Burr at its head. 

Burr's chief associate in the pLans which 
he had thus formed was Harman Blenner- 
hassett, and the story of their acquain- 
tance, friendship and confederation, 
borders strongly on tl)e romantic. Blen- 
nerhassett was one of the Irisli patriots 
who were compelled to flee from Ireland 
after their attempt to liberate themselves 
from the thralldom of England, and was 
the classmate and friend of the celebrated 
Thomas Addis Emmett. He was pos- 
sessed of a large amount of property, the 
greater part of which he was fortunate 
enough to render available in money 
before his departure. Disgusted with the 
corruption of courts, and glad to escape 
the turmoil of politics, he sought retire- 
ment in the western wilderness, on a beau- 
tiful island in the Ohio, then on the 
borders of civilization. Here he built a 
princely mansion, and embellished it in a 
most costly manner. Situated on the 
borders of Virginia, Kentucky and Ohio, 
he had access to very refined societj', with 
which it was his custom constantlj' to 
intermingle and exchange civilities. His 
hospitality was unbounded ; and, dealt out 
as it was by his own chivalric courtesy 
and the grace of his beautiful wife, his 
island became the general resort for all 
the country around, and it is even yet cel- 
ebrated for the splendid revelries and 
entertainments of which it was once the 
scene. 

Blennerhassett was a fine sample of a 
polished Irish gentleman, and rendered 
himself a very affectionate object of regard, 
by the amenity of his manners and his 
disposition. His lady was a woman of 
rare beauty and accomplishments, which 
were heightened by a pure and unimpeach- 
able character. She reigned the queen of 
this beautiful kingdom of taste and refine- 
ment which Blennerhassett had created on 
the Ohio ; and, according to contemporary 
accounts, she deported herself with an ele- 
gance and dignitj' that might have become 
a throne. She was also a woman of high 



spirit and ambition, and when Burr, aware 
of her commanding influence over her hus- 
band, confidentially intrusted her with his 
plans, she was fired with the boldness and 
intrepidity of his enterprise, and immedi- 
ately determined to engage her husband as 
an associate. Blennerhassett, being a 
man of ductile temper, was easily induced 
by the dazzling representations of prospec- 
tive glory and honor which were set before 
him, to become a participator with Burr. 
He was, moreover, a liberalist of the 
French school, of which fact Aaron Burr 
was well aware ; and it would seem that 
the gorgeous picture which Burr held up 
to him, of Mexico redeemed from tyranny 
by their united efforts, inspired his whole 
nature, as he entered with enthusiasm into 
what he was led to regard an honorable 
and humane undertaking. 

When once pledged to Burr, urder the 
mastering genius of his wife, the exiled 
patriot actively engaged in enlisting men, 
building boats, and preparing the essen- 
tials of his expedition. Many of the most 
respectable citizens of the neighboring 
country, being influenced by the flattering 
promises held out, were induced to con- 
tribute funds, and connect themselves with 
the affair. The entertainments on the 
island were, with the progress of events, 
broken up, and its shores echoed only to 
the muffled oar of the conspirators, as they 
crossed from the adjacent banks, or to the 
tramp of bold adventurers, as they congre- 
gated on the beach to resolve and discuss 
their plans. 

Though somewhat anticipating the 
thread of the narrative, it may here be 
stated, as illustrating the character of a 
truly brave woman and devoted wife, that 
a large number of flat-boats had been built 
on the Muskingum, and sent over to the 
island, and everything was ripe for a 
movement, when the plot became known 
to the public authorities. Blennerhassett 
was very speedily deserted by his follow- 
ers ; and Buell, who commanded the gov- 
ernment militia, went over with a small 
detachment to arrest Burr's great accom- 
plice. He had hardly set his foot on the 



144 



CONSPIRACY AND TRIAL OF BURR. 



island, before he waa met by Mrs. Blen- 
nerhassett, whose spirit seemed to rise with 
the increasing desperation of her fortunes. 
She had seen the party coming, and, 
snatching up a pair of her husband's pis- 
tols, she ran from ihe house to meet them. 
Just as the militia-major stepped out of 
the boat, she seized him by the shoulder, 
and, thrusting him back, presented two 
formidable pistols full in his face, cocked 
and primed, saying in the most positive 
tone, — 

" One step farther, and I will send you 
into eternitij; it is easier for me to do than 
to sal/ it!" 

Her splendid figure, drawn up to its 
full height, her eye fixed with a strong 
and determined gaze, her hands clenching 
firmly the weapons which she held at 
arm's length, — these told the militia- 
major, in language not to be mistaken, the 
terms on which he might advance. It is 
no disparagement of his military or manly 
qualities to sa}', that the old soldier quailed 
before the courageous woman and her trag- 
ical determination, and was forced to turn 
without his victim. 

The frustration of Burr's scheme was 
largely due to the revelations made by 
General Wilkinson, in whom Burr had 
confided so far as to communicate quite 
fully the character and mode of the 
proposed expedition. The tenor of this 
communication was, that he. Burr, had ob- 
tained funds, and had actually commenced 
the enterprise, detachments from different 
points and under different pretenses being 
ready to rendezvous on the Ohio by the 
first of November, to meet on the Missis- 
sippi, — Wilkinson to be second in com- 
mand to Burr only, and to dictate the 
rank and promotion of the oflficers. Burr 
was to proceed westward with his daugh- 
ter, whose husband would follow in Octo- 
ber, with a company of choice spirits. 
Wilkinson was also asked to send an intel- 
ligent and confidential friend to confer 
with Burr. — bringing a list of all persons 
known to tao general, west of the moun- 
tains, likely to prove useful, — together 
with four or five commissions of Wilkin- 



son's officers, to be borrowed upon some 
pretense, and duly to be returned. To 
this was added the as'surance, that already 
had orders been given to the contractor, 
to forward six months' provisions to points 
Wilkinson should name — this not to be 
used until the last moment, and then 
under proper injunctions. Burr stated his 
plan of operations to be as follows : To 
move down rapidly from the Falls on the 
fifteenth of November, with the first five 
hundred or one thousand men in light 
boats, to be at Natchez between the fifth 
and fifteenth of December, there to meet 
Wilkinson and determine as to the expe- 
diency of seizing on or passing by Baton 
Rouge ; that the people of the country to 
which the movement was directed were 
ready to extend a cordial welcome, their 
agents then with Burr declaring that, if 
he would protect their religion and not 
subject them to a foreign power, in three 
weeks all would be settled. In concluding 
his letter to Wilkinson, Burr in glowing 
rhapsody said: 

" Tlie gods invite to glory and fortune! 
It remains to be seen whether we deserve 
the boon. The bearer of this goes express 
to you ; he will hand a formal letter of 
introduction to you from Burr. He is a 
man of inviolable honor and perfect dis- 
cretion, formed to execute rather than to 
project, capable of relating facts with fidel- 
ity and incapable of relating them other- 
wise ; he is thoroughly informed of the 
plans and intentions of Burr, and will dis- 
close to you as far as you inquire, and no 
farther. He has imbibed a reverence for 
j'our character, and may be embarrassed 
in 3'our presence ; put him at ease and he 
will satisfy j'ou." 

It appeared to be Burr's plan, to make 
Blennerhassett's island, in the Ohio river, 
the place of rendezvous ; there to fit out 
bo.-its furnished with armed men, and send 
them down the river. 

Burr had counted too confidently upon 
Wilkinson's becoming an accessory and 
participant. The latter instantly resolved, 
after reading the cipher-letter, to avail 
himself of the reference it made to the 



CONSPIRACY AND TRIAL OF BURR. 



145 



bearer, Mr. Sw.irtwout, ami, in the course 
of some clays, drew from liiin the following 
disclosure : — That he had been dispatched 
by Colonel Burr from Philadelphia; had 
passed through the states of Ohio and 
Kentucky, and proceeded from Louisville 
for St. Louis, expecting there to find Wil- 
kinson ; but discovering that Wilkinson 
had descended the river, he procured a 
skiff, hired hands, and followed the gen- 
eral down the Mississippi to Fort Adams, 
and from thence set out for Natchitoches, 
in company with Captains Spark and 
Hooke, under the pretense of a disposition 
to take part in the campaign against the 
Spaniards, then pending. That Colonel 
Burr, with the support of a powerful asso- 
ciation extending from New York to New 
Orleans, was levying an armed body of 
seven thousand men from the western 
states and territories, with a view to carry 
an expedition against the provinces of 
Mexico, and that five hundred men, under 
the command of Colonel Swartwout and 
a Colonel or Major Tyler, were to de- 
scend the Alleghany, for whose accom- 
modation light-boats had been built and 
were ready. 

In reply to Wilkinson's inquiry, as to 
what course was to be pursued, answer 
was made that the territory would be revo- 
lutionized, where the people were ready to 
join them ; that there would be some seiz- 
ing, probably, at New Orleans ; that they 
expected to be ready to march or embark 
about the first of February, intending to 
land at Vera Cruz, and to march from 
thence to Mexico. General Wilkinson now 
remarked, " There are several millions of 
dollars in the hank of this place;" to 
which reply was made, " We knoio it full 
well." On the general's further observing 
that he presumed they certainly did not 
mean to violate private property. Burr's 
agent said that they meant to borrow, and 
would return it; that they must equip 
themselves in New Orleans, that tliey 
expected naval protection from Great Brit- 
ain ; that the captains and officers of the 
American navy were so disgusted with the 
government, that they were ready to join ; 
1U 



that similar disgusts prevailed throughout 
the western country, wliere the people 
were zealous in favor of the enterprise, 
and that pilot-boat built schooners had 
been contracted for along the southern 
coast for their service. 

Though determined to deceive him, if 
possible, General Wilkinson avers — not- 
withstanding the charge which has been 
brought against him of at one time favor- 
ing and subsequently turning his back 
upon Burr's scheme — that he rejilied that 
he could never dishonor his commission ; 
that he also duped the agent by expressing 
admiration of the plan, and by observing, 
that, although he could not join the expe- 
dition, the engagements which the Span- 
iards had prepared for him at the front 
might prevent his opposing it. Yet, as 
soon as General Wilkinson had fully 
deciphered the letter, he declared his inten- 
tion to oppose the lawless enterprise with 
all the force at his command, and immedi- 
ately informed President Jefferson. With 
the exception of the attack on the frigate 
Chesapeake, Commodore Barron, by the 
British frigate Leopard, and the embargo 
and non-intercourse measures against 
England, few occurrences caused greater 
anxiety to the president, during his eight 
years' official term, tlian this of Burr. 

Government spies had for some time 
been on Burr's track, and, in view of his 
supposed design to attempt a separation of 
the western states from the federal union, 
the governor of Ohio was authorized by 
the legislature to proceed in such a manner 
as he deemed best to check and break \ip 
the movement. Accordingly, by the 
middle of December, ten boats with stores 
were arrested on the Muskingum, and in a 
short time after, four more were seized by 
the troops at Marietta. Bleunerhassett, 
Tyler, and about forty others, left the 
island on the night of December tenth, 
and sailed down the river, barely escaping 
arrest by the military authorities of Ohio. 
On the sixteenth, this party united with 
one commanded by Davis Floyd, at the 
Falls, and, ten days after, the whole force 
joined Burr at the mouth of the Cumber- 



146 



CONSPIRACY AND TEIAL OF BUEfl. 




BUBB A2JD HIS DELUDED FOLLOWERS. 

land ; on the twenty-ninth, the adventur- 
ers passed Fort Massac. 

In the meantime, the United States 
government liad not been inactive. Pres- 
ident Jefferson's proclamation cautioned 
all citizens against joining the enterprise, 
and orders were issued to the United 
States troops, then stationed along the 
Ohio and Mississippi, to capture the boats 
and make prisoners all on board of them, 
including, of course, the chief conspirator. 
Ample precaution had likewise been taken 
by General Wilkinson, for the protection 
and defense of New Orleans. On the 
fourth of January, Burr was at Fort Pick- 
ering, Chickasaw Bluffs ; and soon after at 
Baj'ou Pierre. But as he approached 
New Orleans, he found such a state of 
things in respect to public sentiment and 
militarj' equipment, as to completely baffle 
his plans. He accordingly proceeded to 
the Tombigbee, on his way to Florida, 



having landed with a single companion on 
the banks of the Mississippi, in the middle 
of January. 

Close pursuit was made of Burr by 
Lieutenant Edmund P. Gaines, at the 
head of a file of mounted soldiers, and in a 
short time they encountered the object of 
their search, with his traveling companion. 
Gaines rode forward, and accosting one of 
the strangers, whom he suspected to be 
the leader-in-chief, remarked — 

" I presume, sir, that I have the honor 
of addressing Colonel Burr." 

"I am a traveler," answered Burr, "and 
in a strange land, and do not recognize 
your right to ask such a question." 

" / an-est you" responded Gaines, " at 
the instance of the United States." 

" By what authority do j'ou arrest me, 
a stranger, on the highwaj^, on my own 
private business ? " 

" I am an officer of the United States 
arm}-, and hold in my hand the proclama- 
tion of the president, as w'ell as that of the 
governor of the Mississippi territory, 
directing j'our arrest." 

" But j'ou are a j'oung man, and perhaps 
not aware of the responsibility of thus 
arresting a traveler." 

" I am perfectly aware of my duties, in 
the premises, and shall endeavor to per- 
form them." 

Burr now broke out in a stream of vehe- 
ment denunciation of the proclamations, 



CONSPIRACY AND TRIAL OF BURR. 



147 



and warning Gaines that, in carrying out 
their illegal requisitions, he would be in- 
curring the most serious liabilities. His 
manner was firm, his tone imperious, his 
words keen and forcible ; but the resolute 
young officer told him his mind was made 
up, — the prisoner must accompanj' him to 
his quarters, where he would be treated 
with all the respect due the ex-vice- 
president of the United States, so long as 
he made no attempt to escape. He was 
then conducted to Fort Stoddart, and 
thence was conveyed on horseback, in 
charge of Captain Perkins, to Richmond, 
Virginia, to be tried by the United States 
on a charge of high treason, before Chief- 
Justice Marshall, of the supreme federal 
court. 

Strange and rapid were Burr's vicissi- 
tudes. From being vice-president of the 
republic, the idol of a powerful and domi- 
nant party, he had become the slayer of 
America's greatest statesman, and then a 
bold and disowned adventurer. Defeated 
and pursued, he was indeed a hopeless 
fugitive. When he fled from the authori- 
ties in the Mississippi territory', he dis- 
guised himself in a boatman's dress; his 
pantaloons were of coarse, copperas-dyed 
cloth, with a roundabout of inferior drab ; 
his hat, a flapping, wide-brim beaver, had, 
in times long past, been white, but now 
gave evidence of having encountered much 
rough weather. He finally found himself 
a prisoner, on his way to be arraigned be- 
fore a jury of his country, for high crimes 
and misdemeanors. Yet his fascinating 
power over men's minds was not yet 
extinguished. On being placed under 
guard, to be convej'ed to Richmond, it was 
thought necessary by the directing officer, 
to take every man composing the squad 
aside, and obtain the most solemn pledges 
that, upon the whole route, they would 
hold no interviews with Burr, nor suffer 
him to escape alive. His power of fasci- 
nating and making strong impressions 
upon the human mind, and attaching men 
to him by association, could allow of no 
familiarity. 

A characteristic incident occurred on 



the route to Richmond. On reaching the 
confines of South Carolina, Captain Per- 
kins watched Burr more closely than ever; 
for, in this state lived the son-in-law of 
Burr, Colonel Allston, a gentleman of 
talents, wealth and influence, and after- 
wards governor of the state. Upon enter- 
ing the frontiers of Georgia, Perkins 
endeavored to convey his prisoner in 
by-roads, to avoid the towns, lest he should 
be rescued. The plan was attended with 
difficulty ; they were often lost — the march 
impeded — the highway again resumed. 
Before entering the town of Chester, in 
South Carolina, the party halted. Two 
men were placed before Burr, two on 
either side, and two behind, and, in this 
manner, they passed near a tavern on the 
street, where many persons were standing, 
and music and dancing were heard in the 
house. Burr conceived it a favorable 
opportunity for escape, and, suddenly dis- 
mounting, exclaimed — 

"I am Aaron Burr, under military 
arrest, and claim protection of the civil 
authorities ! " 

Perkins leaped from bis horse, with 
several of his men, and ordered him 
instantly to re-mount. 

" / ivill not ! " replied Burr. 

Not wishing to shoot him, Perkins 
threw down his pistols, and, being a man 
of prodigious strength, and the prisoner 
rather small, seized him around the waist 
and placed him in his saddle, as though he 
was a child. One of the guards now 
caught the reins of the bridle, slipped 
them over the horse's head, and led him 
rapidly on. The astonished citizens had 
seen a party enter their village with a 
prisoner ; had heard him appeal to them 
for protection ; had witnessed the feat of 
Perkins ; and the party vanished, before 
they had time to recover from their confu- 
sion — for, when Burr dismounted, the 
guards cocked their pistols, and the people 
ran within the piazza to escape from 
danger. Far off in the outskirts of the 
village, the party again halted. Burr 
was intensely agitated; the hitherto iron- 
hearted man was in tears! It was the 



148 



CONSPIRACY AND TRIAL OF BURR. 



first time any one had ever seen Aaron 
Burr unmanned. 

On trial, at last, the whole United 
States waited the result with profoundest 
interest. It was one of the most memora- 
ble state occasions, in the history of human 
governments. Upon the bench sat tlie 
venerated Marshall, calm, dignified, 
learned. For the prosecution, there ap- 
peared District Attorney Hay and the 
renowned William Wirt. For the defend- 
ant, Luther Martin, Edmund Randolph, 
John Wickham, Benjamin Botts, and, 
rivaling all the rest, Burr himself. On 
the jury were such men as John Randolph 
and Littleton W. Tazewell. Among the 
spectators were Commodore Truxton, Gen- 
erals Eaton and Jackson, Washington 
Irving, Winfield Scott, William B. Giles, 
John Ta3dor. Burr was of course the cen- 
tral figure in this master scene. After a 
trial lasting three or four weeks in mid- 
summer, during which the legal exertions 
and forensic talent and power displayed on 
both sides were indeed prodigious, the 
jury returned a verdict, "that Aaron Burr 
is not proved to be guilty, under the 
indictment, by any evidence submitted to 
us ; we, therefore, find him not guilty." 
The prosecution failed and broke down in 
its legal proofs, and consequently the 
indictments against the other conspirators 
were never pursued. 

Blennerhassett found himself stripped 
of his possessions, because of what he had 
embarked in this calamitou'S expedition. 
He went to England, in quest of an ap- 
pointment to office, and to Ireland, to look 
after some reversionary claims, but unsuc- 
cessfully in both cases, and, bankrupt and 
broken-hearted, he removed to the isle of 
Guernsey, and there died in 1831. Mrs. 
Blennerhassett died, a few years after, in 
New York, in the most abject poverty, 
and was buried by some Irish females. 

Burr, without friends or fortune, became 
an exile in Europe, where he lived in ex- 
treme penury, and everywhere shunned as 
a felon and outlaw. He was peremptorily 
ordered by the government of England to 
quit that realm, beiug regarded as a spy, 



and, on going to France, was there kept 
under the closest police surveillance. Re- 
turning after some j-ears of this kind of 
life, to his native land, he resumed the 
profession of the law, but the ban of soci- 
ety rested upon him, and he was, as he 
himself expressed it, severed from the rest 
of mankind. 

Yet there was one in the wide world 
who never ceased to pour upon Aaron 
Burr the richest treasures of woman's 
adoring love. This was his daughter 
Theodosia, the beautiful and accomplished 
wife of Governor Allston, of South Caro- 
lina. As has been truly said, by one of the 
many eulogists of this marvelous woman, 
her love for her father partook of the purity 
of abetter world, — akin, indeed, to the affec- 
tion which a celestial spirit might be suj> 
posed to entertain for a parent cast down 
from heaven, for sharing in the sin of the 
' Son of the Morning.' Thus it was, that, 
when in the midst of his deepest obloquy, 
and when the whole world, as it were, 
looked upon him, abhorrently, as a de- 
praved monster, the loving and beloved 
Theodosia could write : 




" I witness your extraordinary fortitude 
with new wonder at ever}' new misfortune. 
Often, after reflecting upon this subject, 
you appear to me so superior, so elevated 



CONSPIRACY AND TRIAL OF BURR. 



149 



above all other men; I contemplate j-ou 
with such a strange mixture of humility, 
admiration, reverence, love and pride, that 
very little superstition would be necessary to 
make me worship you as a superior being; 
such enthusiasm does j-our character excite 
in me. A\nien I afterward revert to my- 
self, how insignificant do my best qualities 
appear. My vanity would be greater, if I 
had not been placed so near you ; and yet 
my pride is our relationship. I had rather 
not live than not be the daughter of such a 
man." 

Never had the worthiest and most vir- 
tuous of fathers so touching a tribute of 
love and reverence from a child, as this 
from the beautiful and gifted Theodosia, 
to a parent whose very name was regarded 
by men as the synonym of dishonor and 
pollution. His love for her, too, was con- 
stant and unbounded, — a mutual, fervent, 
enthusiastic love, between the two, that 
almost passes belief, and which no descrip- 
tion could adequately characterize. Yet 
it was the destiny of this man to have 
torn and swept from him the last and only 
tie that kept him in sympathy with his 
kind. Returning from his exile in Europe, 
to the land where he was still regarded as 



little else than a fiend in human shape, his 
heart was buoyed with the expectation of 
soon clasping to his arms her in whom his 
earthly all-in-all centered. Alas! he was 
yet to drain the cup of its nether dregs. 
Hastening to meet her father on his ar- 
rival at New York, Theodosia took passage 
from Charleston, on the 30th of December, 
in 1812, in the small pilot schooner Patriot, 
just from a jirivateering cruise. But, 
though a fine sailer, with the best of offi- 
cers, the vessel was never seen, nor heard 
from, after leaving port. Whether the 
vessel took fire and was thus destroyed 
with all on board, or foundered in the gale 
which occurred soon after she left Charles- 
ton, or was taken by the pirates then 
infesting the high seas, is unknown to this 
day. It was a blow which brought inde- 
scribable dismay and agony to Burr. 
Utterly bereft and alone, shunned as a 
murderer, and despised as a plotter against 
his country, his wretched existence was 
prolonged to past four-score j'ears, when 
he went down in loneliness to the grave, 
"unwept, unhonored, and unsung." Of 
his accomplished and affectionate daughter, 
all tongues and pens have unitedly spoken 
as " Theodosia the beloved." 



_ 



XVIII. 

FULTON'S TmUMPHANT APPLICATION OF STEAM TO 

NAVIGATION.— 1807. 



First Steam-boat Voyage on American Waters Under His Direction. — Astonishment Produced by the 
Exliibition. — Great Era in National Development. — The World at Large Indebted to American 
Ingenuity and Enterprise for this Mighty Revolutionary Agent in Human Progress and Power — 
The Whole Scale of Civilization Enlarged. — Fulton's Early Mechanisms. — His Inventive Projects 
Abroad. — Steam Propulsion the End Sought. — Various Experiments and Trials. — Livingston's 
Valued Co-operation. — Studying the Principle Involved. — Its Discovery at Last. — Legislative En- 
couragement Asked. — Public Ridicule of the Scheme. — Construction of a Steamboat. — The " Queer- 
Looking Craft." — Incidents at the Launch. — Undaunted Confidence of Fulton. — Sailing of the 
" New-Fangled Craft." — Demonstrations Along the Route. — Complete Success of the Trip. — First 
Passage-Money. — That Bottle of Wine. — Opposition Lines, and Racing. — First Steam-boat at the 
West. — Amazing Subsequent Increase. — Fulton's Checkered Fortunes. 



"It ifl to the undaunted peraeveronce ond ciertiona of the American Fulton thnt 1b due the everloBting honor of having produced this 
resolution, both in naval architecture and navigation."— JUBr RtpoKT of the Exiubitio.v or all Njirioss, LowDox, ISOL 




ITEAM, in its application to the purposes of navigation, 
was first successfully employed by Robert Fulton, a na- 
tive of Little Britain, Penusj'lvania. His peculiar genius 
manifested itself at an early age, in an irrepressible taste 
for producing drawings and various mechanisms. At the 
age of twenty-one he was intimate with Franklin. He 
had previously painted portraits and landscapes in Phila- 
delphia, and derived considerable profit from the occupa- 
tion. He subsequently sailed for England, with the view 
of seeking Mr. West's aid in the prosecution of his art. 
^ That great painter took him into his family, at once. In 
1793, Mr. Fulton was actively engaged in a project to im- 
prove inland navigation. Even at that time he had con- 
ceived the idea of propelling vessels by steam. In 1804 he had acquired much 
valuable information upon the subject, and written it down, as well as much concern- 
ing his own life, and sent many manuscripts from Paris to this country, but the 
vessel was wrecked and most of the p.apers destroyed. About this period, the sub- 
ject of canals seems to have been the principal object of his attention, although not 
exclusively. In 1806, Mr. Fulton left Europe for New York, and on his arrival 
in this country, he immediately commenced his arduous exertions in the cause of 
practical science. The fertility of his mind in this direction may be understood, 
when it is stated that, in 1794, he had been engaged by the Duke of Bridgewater in 



FIRST STEAM-lIOAr 0.\ THE 
HUDSON. 



FULTON'S FIRST STEAMBOAT. 



151 



canal projects, had adopted and patented 
the system of inclined planes as a substi- 
tute for locks, and had written a treatise 
on canals. He also invented a mill for 
sawing marble, patented several methods 
of spinning flax and making ropes, and 
constructed a torpedo to be used in war, 
for the destruction of an enemy's vessels. 

At what time Mr. Fulton's mind was 
first directed to steam navigation, is not 
definitely known; but even in 1793, he 
had matured a jslan in which he reposed 
great confidence. No one, previously to 
Mr. Fulton, had constructed a steam-boat 




/Li^Ay^ :!^^o 



in any other waj-, or with any otlier result, 
than as an unsuccessful experiment ; and 
although many have disputed his right to 
the honor of the discovery, none have done 
so with any semblance of justice. Miller's 
experiments, which simply proved the 
practicability of the principle of propelling 
vessels by steam, were made in 1787, in 
Scotland; but Fulton's boat, which began 
to navigate the Hudson in 1807, was cer- 
tainly the first practical demonstration of 
this application of steam, being five years 
prior to the success of Henry Bell on the 
Clyde, and nearly ten j'ears preceding the 
first attempts on the Thames river, under 



Brunei's direction. The incompleteness of 
Fitch's plan is matter of history, though 
his inventive ingenuity was verj' great. 

Among those of Fulton's own country- 
men who had previously made unsuccessful 
attempts to render the force of steam sub- 
servient to practical and useful purposes, 
was Chancellor Livingston, of New York. 
As early as 1798, he believed that he had 
accomplished his object, and represented 
to the legislature of the state of New York, 
that he possessed a mode of applying the 
steam engine so as to propel a boat on 
new and advantageous princip)les; but he 
was deterred from carrying it into effect, 
by the uncertainty and hazard of a very 
expensive experiment, unless he could be 
assured of an exclusive advantage from it, 
should it be found successful. 

The legislature in ]\Larch, 1798, passed 
an act vesting !Mr. Livingston with the 
exclusive right and privilege of navigating 
all kinds of boats which might be propelled 
bj- the force of fire or steam, on all the 
waters within the territory or jurisdiction 
of the state of New York, for a term of 
twenty years from the passing of the act, 
— upon condition that he should within a 
twelvemonth build such a boat, the mean 
of whose progress should not be less than 
four miles an hour. 

The bill was introduced into the house 
of assembly by Dr. Mitchell, upon which 
S^^tI!x occasion the wags and the lawyers united 
their powers in opposition to the bill in 
such a manner that the good doctor had 
to encounter all their jokes, and parry all 
their blows. 

According to Mr. Livingston's own 
account of these most interesting circum- 
stances, it appears that, when residing as 
minister plenipotentiary of the United 
States in France, he there met with Mr. 
Fulton, and they formed that friendship 
and connection with each other, to which 
a similarity of pursuits naturally gives 
birth. He communicated to Mr. Fulton 
his views of the importance of steam-boats 
to their common country ; informed him of 
what had been attempted in America, and 
of his resolution to resume the pursuit on 



152 



FULTON'S FIRST STEAMBOAT. 



his return ; and advised him to turn his 
attention to the subject. It was agreed 
between them to embaric in the enterprise, 
and immediately to make such experi- 
ments as would enable them to determine 
how far, in spite of former failures, the 
object was attainable. The princijsal 
direction of these experiments was left to 
Mr. Fulton. 

On the arrival at New York of Mr. 
Fulton, which was not till 1806, they im- 
mediately engaged in building a boat of — 
as was then thought — very considerable 
dimensions, for navigating the Hudson. 
This boat, named the Clermont, was of 
one hundred and sixty tons burden, one 
hundred and thirty feet long, eighteen 
feet wide, and seven feet deep. The 
diameter of the paddle-wheels was fifteen 
feet, the boards four feet long and dipping 
two feet in the water. She was a queer- 
looking craft, and, while on the stocks, 
excited much attention and no small 
amount of ridicule. Wlien she was 
launched, and the steam engine placed in 
her, that also was looked upon as being of 
a piece with the boat built to float it. A 
few had seen one at work raising the IMan- 
hattan water into the reservoir back of 
the almshouse ; but, to the people at large, 
the whole thing was a hidden mj-stery. 
Curiosity was greatly excited. Nor will 
the reader be at all surprised at the state- 
ment made by an eye-witness and narrator 
of these events, that, when it was an- 
nounced in the New York papers that the 
boat would start from Cortlandt street at 
fix and a half o'clock on Friday morning, 
the fourth of August, and take passengers 
to Albany, there was a broad smile on 
every face, as the inquiry was made, if 
i::\y one would be fool enough to go? 
( )ne friend was heard to accost another in 
the street with — 

"John, will thee risk thy life in such a 
concern ? I tell thee she is the most fear- 
ful wild fowl living, and thy father ought 
to restrain thee ! " 

When Friday morning came, the 
wharves, piers, house-tops, and every 
' coifjne cle vantwje ' from which a sight 



could be obtained, was filled with specta- 
tors. There were twelve berths, and 
every one was taken through to Albany. 
The fare was seven dollars. All the 
machinery was uncovered and exposed to 
view. The periphery of the balance- 
wheels, of cast iron, some four or more 
inches square, ran just clear of the water. 
There were no outside guards, the balance- 
wheels being supported by their respective 
shafts, which projected over the sides of 
the boat. The forward part was covered 
by a deck, which afforded shelter to the 
hands. The after-part was fitted up, in a 
rough manner, for passengers. The en- 
trance into the cabin was from the stern, 
in front of the steersman, who worked a 
tiller, as in an ordinary sloop. Black 
smoke issued from the chimney; steam 
issued from every ill-fitted valve and crev- 
ice of the engine. Fulton himself was 
there. His remarkably clear and sharp 
voice was heard above the hum of the mul- 
titude and the noise of the engine; his 
step was confident and decided ; he heeded 
not the fearfulness, doubts, or sarcasm of 
those by whom he was surrounded. The 
whole scene combined had in it an individ- 
uality, as well as an interest, which comes 
but once and is remembered forever. 

Everything being ready, the engine was 
set in motion, and the boat moved steadily 
but slowly from the wharf : as she turned 
up the river, and was fairly under way, 
there arose such a huzza as ten thousand 
throats never gave before. The passen- 
gers returned tlie cheer, but Fulton stood 
upon the deck, his eyes flashing with an un- 
usual brilliancy as he surveyed the crowd. 
He felt that the magic wand of success 
was waving over him, and he was silent. 

As the boat sailed or steamed bj' West 
Point, the whole garrison was out, and 
cheered most lustily. At Newburg, it 
seemed as if all Orange county was col- 
lected there ; the whole side-hill city 
seemed animated with life. Every sail- 
boat and water-craft was out. The ferry- 
boat from Fishkill was filled with ladies, 
but Fulton was engaged in seeing a pas- 
senger landed, and did not observe the 



FULTON'S FIRST STEAMBOAT. 



158 



boat until she bore up nearly alongside; 
the flapping of a sail arrested his atten- 
tion, and, as he turned, the waving of so 
many handkerchiefs, and the smiles of so 



In a letter to his friend and patron, Mr. 
Barlow, Fulton says of this Clermont trial 
trip : " My steam-boat voyage to Albany 
and back has turned out rather more 




many bii>;lit iml U ippN 1 n-is. struck liiiii 
with surprise, and, raising his hat, he ex- 
claimed, " That is the finest sight we have 
seen yet." 



l';i\Miul.li' than 1 ha.l calculated. The dis- 
tance to Albany is one Imndred and fifty 
miles. I ran up in thirty-two hours and 
down in thirty. The latter is just five 



154 



FULTON'S FIRST STEAMBOAT. 



miles an hour. I had a light breeze 
against me the whole way, going and com- 
ing, so that no use was made cf my sails, 
and this voyage has been performed whol- 
ly by the power of the steam engine. I 
overtook many sloops and schooners beat- 
ing to the windward, and passed them as 
if they had been at anchor." Such was 
the modest description of this greatest of 
modern inventions. 

Of peculiar interest and entertainment 
is the following narrative connected with 
this historic voyage, from the graphic pen 
of one who was a personal actor in the 
scene described: — 

I chanced to be at Albany on business 
when Fulton arrived there in his unheard- 
of craft, which everybody felt so much 
anxiety to see. Being ready to leave, and 
hearing that this craft was going to 
return to New York, I repaired on board 
and inquired for Mr. Fulton. I was 
referred to the cabin, and there found a 
plain, gentlemanly man, wholly alone, and 
engaged in writing. 

" Mr. Fulton, I presume." 

"Yes, sir." 

" Do you return to New York, with this 
boat ? " 

" We .shall try to get back, sir." 

" Can I have a passage down ? " 

" You can take your chance with us, 
sir." 

I inquired the amount to be paid, and, 
after a moment's hesitation, a sum, I 
think six dollars, was named. The amount, 
in coin, I laid in his open hand, and, with 
his eye fixed upon it, he remained so long 
motionless, that I supposed it might be a 
miscount, and said to him, " Is that right, 
sir ? " This question roused him as from 
a kind of reverie, and, as he looked up, the 
big tear was brimming in his eye, and his 
voice faltered as he said — 

" Excuse me, sir ; but memory was 
busy as I contemplated this, the first 
pecuniary reward I have ever received for 
all my exertions in adapting steam to 
navigation. I should gladly commemorate 
the occasion over a bottle of wine with 
you, but really I am too poor even for 



that, just now; j-et I trust we may meet 
again, when this will not be the case." 

Some four j'ears after this (continues 
the writer of this agreeable reminiscence), 
when the Clermont had been greatly im- 
proved and her name changed to the North 
Kiver, and when two other boats, viz., the 
Car of Neptune and the Paragon had been 
built, making Mr. Fulton's fleet consist of 
three boats regularly plying between New 
York and Albanj', I took passage upon one 
of these for the latter city. The cabin in 
that day was below ; and, as I walked its 
length to and fro, I saw I was very closely 
observed by one I supposed a stranger. 
Soon, however, I recalled the features of 
Mr. Fulton ; but, without disclosing this, 
I continued my walk. At length, in pass- 
ing his seat, our ej-es met, when he sprang 
to his feet, and, eagerly seizing my hand, 
exclaimed — 

'•' I knew it must be j-ou, for j'our feat- 
ures have never escaped me ; and, although 
I am still far from rich, j-et I may venture 
that hottle now ! " 

It was ordered ; and during its discus- 
sion Mr. Fulton ran rapidly, but vividly, 
over his experiences of the world's cold- 
ness and sneers, and of the hopes, fears, 
disappointments, and difficulties, that were 
scattered through his whole career of dis- 
covery, up to the very point of his final, 
crowning triumph, at which he so fully felt 
he had arrived at last. And in reviewing 
all these matters, he said — 

" I have again and again recalled the 
occasion, and the incident, of our first 
interview at Albany ; and never have I 
done so without renewing in my mind the 
vivid emotion it originally caused. That 
seemed, and does still seem, to me, the 
turning point in my destiny — the dividing 
line between light and darkness, in my 
career upon earth; for it was the first 
actual recognition of my usefulness to my 
fellow-men." 

Even at this earh' period in the emploj-- 
ment of so dangerous and slightly under- 
stood a motive power as steam, the rival rj' 
and diversion of racing was indulged ii.. 
1 It was in the month of September, 1809, 



FULTON'S FIRST STEAMBOAT. 



155 



that the exciting and criminal scene of a 
steam-boat race was first enacted. A com- 
pany from Albany had been formed for 
the purpose of competing with Fulton. 
The first vessel of this opposition line was 
advertised to leave Albany at the same 
time as Fulton's. Parties ran high in the 
hotels of Albany. The partisans of Fulton 
were enrolled under Professor Kemp, of 
Columbia College ; those of the opposition 
under Jacob Stout. The victory was long 
in suspense ; and it was not until after the 
thirtieth hour of a hard struggle that the 
result was proclaimed by Dr. Kemp, on 
the taffrail of Fulton's vessel, and holding 
out, in derision, a coil of rope to Captain 
Stout, for the purpose, as he remarked in 
so doing, of "towing him into port." 
When the age, high standing, and sedate 
character of these two gentlemen are con- 
sidered, it is not surprising that, in course 
of time, women at the West learned to 
devote their bacon to feeding the furnace 
fires of rival steam-boats. 

The complete success attending steam 
navigation on the Hudson and the neigh- 
boring waters, previous to the year 1S09, 
turned the attention of the principal pro- 
jectors to the idea of its application on the 
western waters ; and in the month of 
April of that j'ear, Mr. Eoosevelt, of New 
York, pursuant to an agreement with 
Chancellor Livingston and Mr. Fulton, 
visited those rivers, with the purpose of 
forming an opinion whether they admitted 
of steam navigation or not. Mr. Roosevelt 
surveyed the rivers from Pittsburg to 
New Orleans, and, as his report was favor- 
able, it was decided to build a boat at the 
former place. This was done under his 
direction, and in the year 1811 the first 
boat was launched on tlie waters of the 
Ohio. It was called the New Orleans. 

Late at night, on the fourth day after 
quitting Pittsburg, they arrived in safety 
at Louisville, having been seventy hours 
descending a distance of somewhat more 
than seven hundred miles. The novel 
appearance of the vessel, and the fearful 
rapidity — as it was then regarded — with 
which it made its j)assage, excited a mix- 



ture of terror and surprise among many of 
the settlers on the banks, whom the rumor 
of such an invention had never reached. 

Mr. Livingston's former associate in hia 
experiments with applying steam to this 
purpose was Mr. John Stevens, of New 
Jersey, who persevered independently of 
Fulton and his patron, in various attempts 
to construct steam-boats. In this enter- 
prise he was aided by his son, and his 
prospects of success had become so flatter- 
ing, that he refused to renew his partner- 
ship with Livingston, and resolved to trust 
to his own exertions. Fulton's boat, how- 
ever, was first ready, and thus secured the 
grant of the exclusive privilege of the state 
of New York. The Stevenses were but a 
few days later in moving a boat with the 
required velocit}^ Being shut out of the 
waters of the state of New York, by the 
jiriority of Livingston and Fulton, Stevens 
conceived the bold design of conveying his 
boat to the Delaware by sea ; and this 
boat, which was so near reaping the honor 
of first success, was the first to navigate 
the ocean by steam. One of the most 
efficient advocates of the new mode of nav- 
igation by steam was DeWitt Clinton. 

From the date of Fulton's triumpli in 
1807, steam navigation became a fixed fact 
in the United States, and went on extend- 
ing with astonishing rafidity. Nor could 
a different result have been rationally 
expected in such a country as America. 

In person, Mr. Fulton was about six 
feet high, slender form, but finely propor- 
tioned. Nature had made him a gentle- 
man, and bestowed upon him ease and 
gracefulness. A modest confidence in his 
own worth and talents, gave him an unem- 
barrassed deportment in all his social 
intercourse. He expressed himself with 
energy, fluency, and correctness, and, as he 
owed more to his own experience and 
reflections than to books, his sentiments 
were often interesting from their original- 
ity. But what was most conspicuous in 
his character, was his calm constancy, his 
industry, and that indefatigable patience 
and perseverance, which always enabled 
him to overcome difficulties. 



XIX. 

EXTENSIVE AND CALAMITOUS EARTHQUAKE AT THE 

WEST.— 1811. 



Its Convulsive Force Felt all Over the Valley of the Mississippi and to the Atlantic Coast — The Earth 
Suddenly Bursts Open and a Vast Region of Country is Sunk and Lost. — Awful Chasms and 
Upheavals. — Ruin and Desolation Brought Upon the Inhabitants. — Humboldt's Interesting Opin- 
ion of the Western Earthquake. — Its Central Point of Violence. — Terrible Consternation Produced. 
— The Ground Swellings and Crackings. — Great Aoitation of the Waters. — Houses Buried, Boats 
Wrecked. — Giant Forests Crushed. — Purple Tinge of tlie Atmosphere. — Thunder, Lightning, Flood, 
Etc. — A Mighty Struggle. — Hills and Islands IJisappear. — Buriid Grounds Engulfed. — Nature's 
Secrets Unbosomed. — Lakes Drained, New Ones Formed — Present Aspect of the Country — 
Account of the More Recent Earthquakes in California, their Characteristics and Destructiveness. 
— Most Serious in San Francisco.— Lives and Property Lost. — Women and Children Panic-Struck. 
— Direction of the Shocks — Indications of their Approach. — Effect in the Harbor and Bay. 



" r^ieenaed nature oftentimes breulta forth 

In8traiik:e eniptiona j and ttie teeming e.rth 

Is witti n l^ind of folic pincii'd and vex'd 

Bv the impriaoniog of unruly winds 

"Witliin l\er womb ; wliich, for enhircement pt-=vi 

Sliiike th9 old beldame Eartti. and topple duwu 

Steeples and mos8*grown towers," 




AFIEU rHK tABTUyUAiE. 



^T^ARTHQUAKES in the United States 
■ p liave been of comparatively rare occur- 
rence, so far as any extensive destruction 
of life and propertj' has been involved. 
By far the most important of those, prior 
to the disastrous California earthquakes in 
1865 and 1868, was that which took place 
at New Madrid, in Missouri, below St. 
Louis, on the Mississippi, in 1811, and 
which is always spoken of, in that section, 
as " the great earthquake." Over a region 
of country three hundred miles in length, 
from the mouth of the Ohio to that of the 
St. Francis, the ground rose and sank in 
great undulations, and lakes were formed, 
and again drained. Humboldt remarks 
that it presents one of the few examples of 
an incessant quaking of the ground for 
successive months far from anj' volcano. 

The central point of violence in this 
remarkable earthquake was thought to bo 
near the Little Prairie, twenty-five or 
thirty miles below New Madrid ; the vibra- 



EARTHQUAKE AT THE WEST. 



157 



tions from which were felt all over the 
vallej' of the Ohio, as high up as Pitts- 
burg. The first shock was felt on the 
uiglit of December sixteenth, 1811, and 
was repeated at intervals, with decreasing 
severity, into February following. New 
Madrid, having suffered more than any 
other town on the Mississippi from its 
effects, was considered as situated near 
the focus from whence the undulations 
proceeded. 

The water of the river, which the day 
before was tolerably clear, being rather 
low, changed to a reddish hue, and became 
thick with mud thrown up from its bottom, 
while the surface, lashed vehemently by 
the convulsion of the earth beneath, was 
covered with foam, which, gathering into 
masses the size of a barrel, floated along 
on the trembling surface. The earth on 
the shores opened in wide fissures, and, 
closing again, threw the water, sand and 
mud, in huge jets, higher than the tops of 
the trees. The atmosphere was filled with 
a thick vapor or gas, to which the light 
imparted a purple tinge, altogether differ- 
ent in appearance from the autumnal haze 
of an Indian summer, or that of smoke. 
Prom the temporary che<;k to the current, 
by the heaving up of the bottom, the sink- 
ing of the banks and sand-bars into the bed 
of the stream, the river rose in a few min- 
utes five or six feet ; and, impatient of the 
restraint, again rushed forward with 
redoubled impetuosity, hurrying along the 
boats, now set loose by the panic-stricken 
boatmen, as in less danger on the water 
than at the shore, where the banks threat- 
ened every moment to destroy them by the 
falling earth, or carry them down in the 
vortices of the sinking masses. Many 
boats were overwhelmed in this manner, 
and their crews perished with them. 
Numerous boats were wrecked on the 
snags and old trees thrown up from the 
bottom of the Mississippi, where they had 
quietly rested for ages, while others were 
sunk or stranded on the sand-bars and 
islands. At New Madrid, several boats 
were carried by the reflux of the current 
into a small stream that puts into the 



river just above the town, and left on the 
ground by the returning water a very con- 
siderable distance from the Mississippi. 

It is an interesting coincidence, that, at 
this precise period, the first steam-boat 
voyage ever made in western waters, added 
the novelty of its occurrence to the con- 
vulsions of nature in this region. The 
name of the steam-boat in question was the 
New Orleans, commanded by Mr. Eoose- 
velt. On arriving about five miles above 
the Yellow Banks, near New Madrid, they 
moored opposite to a vein of coal on the 
Indiana side, the coal having been pur- 
chased some time previously for the steam- 
er's use. They found a large quantity 
already quarried to their hand and con- 
veyed to the shore by depredators, who, 
however, had not means to carry it off; 
and with this they commenced loading. 
While thus engaged, the voyagers were 
accosted in great alarm by the squatters in 
the neighborhood, who inquired if they had 
not heard strange noises on the river and 
in the woods in the course of the preceding 
day, and perceived the shores shake — 
insisting that they had repeatedlj' heard 
the earth tremble. Hitherto, however, 
nothing remarkable had been perceived, 
and the following day they continued 
their monotonous voyage in those vast sol- 
itudes. The weather was oppressively 
hot ; the air misty, still and dull ; and 
though the sun was visible, like an 
immense and glowing ball of cojiper, his 
rays hardly shed more than a mournful 
twilight on the surface of the water. 
Evening drew nigh, and with it some 
indications of what was passing around 
them became evident, for they ever and 
anon heard a rushing sound and violent 
splash, and finally saw large portions of 
tlie shore tearing away from the land and 
lapsing into the watery abyss. An eye- 
witness says : " It was a startling scene 
— one could have heard a pin drop on 
deck. The crew spoke but little; they 
noticed, too, that the comet, for some time 
visible in the heavens, had suddenly dis- 
appeared, and every one on board v.as 
lliur.derstruck." 



158 



EARTHQUAKE AT THE WEST. 




SCEKE OF THE GREAT EABTHQUAKE IN THE TTEST. 



The second day after leaving the Yellow 
r.anks, the sun rose over the forests, the 
same dim ball of fire, and the air was thick, 
heavy, and oppressive, as before. The 
portentous signs of this terrible natural 
convulsion increased. Alarmed and con- 
fused, the pilot affirmed he was lost — as 
he found the channel everywhere altered ; 
and where he had hitherto known deep 
water, there lay numberless trees with 
their roots upward. The trees that still 
remained were seen waving and nodding 
on the banks, without a wind. The 
adventurers had of course no choice but to 
continue their route as best they could, 
but towards evening they were at a loss 
for a place of shelter. They had usually 
brought to, under the shore, but at all 
points they saw the high banks disappear- 
ing, overwhelming many an unfortunate 
craft, from which the owners had landed, 
in the hope of effecting their escape. A 
large island in mid-channel, which had 
been selected by the pilot as the better 
alternative, was sought for in vain, having 
totally disappeared, and thousands of 
acres constituting the surrounding coun- 
try, were found to have been swallowed 
up, with their gigantic growth of forest 
and cane. 



Thus, in doubt and terror, they pro- 
ceeded hour after hour, until dark, when 
they found a small island, and rounded to, 
mooring at the foot of it. Here they lay, 
keeping watch on deck, during the long 
night, listening to the sound of the waters 
which roared and whirled wildly around 
them — hearing, also, from time to time, 
the rushing earth slide from the shore, 
and the commotion of the falling mass as 
it became engulfed in the river. The 
lady of the party was frequently awakened 
from her restless slumber, by the jar of 
the furniture and loose articles in the 
cabin, as in the course of the night the 
shock of the passing earthquake was com- 
municated to the bows of the vessel. The 
morning dawned and showed they were 
near the mouth of the Ohio. The shores 
and channel were now equally unrecogniz- 
able — everything seemed changed. About 
noon that daj' they reached New Madrid. 
Here the inhabitants were in the greatest 
consternation and distress. Part of the 
population had fled for their lives to the 
higher grounds ; others prayed to be taken 
on board the steamer, as the earth was 
opening in fissures on every side, and their 
houses hourly falling around them. Pro- 
ceeding thence they found the Mississippi, 



EARTHQUAKE AT THE "WEST. 



150 



at all times a fearful stream, unusually 
swollen, turbid, and full of trees, and after 
many days of extreme danger, finally 
reached Natchez. 

After shaking the valley of the Mis- 
sissippi to its center, the earthquake 
vibrated along the courses of the rivers 
and valleys, and, passing the primitive 
mountain barriers, died away along the 
shores of the Atlantic ocean. In the 
region of its greatest force, and pending 
the tremendous elemental strife which 
finally ensued, the current of the Missis- 
sippi was driven back from its source with 
appalling velocity for several hours, in con- 
sequence of an elevation of its bed. But 
the noble river was not thus to be stayed 
in its course. Its accumulated waters 
came booming on, and, overtopping the 
barrier thus suddenly raised, carried every 
thing before them with resistless power. 
Boats, then floating on its surface, shot 
down the declivity like an arrow from a 
bow, amid roaring billows and the wildest 
disorder. A few days' action of its power- 
ful current sufficed to wear away every 
vestige of the barrier thus strangely inter- 
posed, and its waters moved on in their 
wonted channel to the ocean, seemingly 
rejoicing in their triumph over the oppos- 
ing elements and forces. 

The day that succeeded this night of 
dread brought no solace in its dawn. 
Shock followed shock ; a dense black cloud 
of vapor overshadowed the land, through 
which no struggling sunbeam found its 
way to cheer the desponding heart of man. 
The appearances that presented themselves 
after the subsidence of the principal com- 
motion were indeed staggering to the 
beholder. Hills had disappeared, and 
lakes were found in their stead ; numerous 
lakes became elevated ground, over the 
surface of which vast heaps of sand were 
scattered in every direction; while in 
many places the earth for miles was sunk 
below the general level of the surrounding 
country, without being covered with water, 
— leaving an impression in miniature of a 
catastrophe much more important in its 
effects, which had, perhaps, preceded it 



ages before. One of the lakes thus formed 
is sixty or seventy miles in length, and 
from three to twenty miles in breadth ; it 
is also in some places very shallow, and in 
others from iifty to one hundred feet deep, 
which latter is much more than the depth 
of the Mississippi river in that quarter. 
In sailing over its surface, one is struck 
with astonishment at beholding the gigan- 
tic trees of the forest standing partially 
exposed amid the waste of waters, branch- 
less and leafless, like gaunt, mysterious 
monsters. But this wonder is still further 
increased on casting the eye on the dark- 
blue profound, to witness cane-brakes cov- 
ering its bottom, over which a mammoth 
species of tortoise is occasionally seen drag- 
ging its slow length along, while countless 
millions of fish are sporting through the 
aquatic thickets, — the whole constituting 
one of the most remarkable features in 
American scenery and topography. 

The lost hills or islands before mea- 
tioned are of various extent ; some twenty 
or thirty miles in circumference, others 
not so large, and some are even diminutive 
in size, but of great altitude ; occasionally 
furnished with fountains of living water, 
and all well timbered. The low grounds 
are in the form of basins, connected by 
openings or hollows ; these, not being as 
deep as the bottom of their reservoirs, it 
happens that, when an inundation takes 
place, either from the Mississippi river or 
streams issuing from the surrounding 
highlands, they are filled to overflowing — 
and, when the waters recede below a level 
with these points of communication, they 
become stagnant pools, passing off by the 
process of infiltration, which is very slow, 
in a thick, black, tenacious Icam, or by 
evaporation equally gradual, in a country 
covered by forests and impenetrable 
jungle. At New Madrid and its vicinity, 
the earth broke into innumerable fissures; 
the church-yard, with its dead, was torn 
from the bank and embosomed in the 
turbid stream; and in many places, the 
gaping earth unfolded its secrets, — the 
bones ci the gigantic mastodon and ich- 
thyosaurus, hidden within its bosom for 



160 



EARTHQUAKE AT THE WEST. 



ages, being brought to the surface. Even 
at the present day, frequent slight shocks 
of earthquake are tliere felt, and it is 
asserted that, in the vast swamp at the 
back of the town, strange sounds may at 
times be heard, as of some mighty cauldron 
seething and bubbling in the bowels of the 
earth. 

Flint, the geographer, who visited the 
country seven j'ears after the event, says 
that, at the time of his visit, a district 
west of New Madrid still remained cov- 
ered with water, and that the neighboring 
forest presented a scene of great confusion. 
He also saw hundreds of deep chasms re- 
maining in the alluvial soil, which were 
produced, according to the inhabitants, by 
the bursting of the earth, which rose in 
great undulations, and discharged prodig- 
ious volumes of water, sand, and coaly 
matter, thrown up to a great height. As 
the shocks lasted throughout a period of 
three months, the country people remarked 
that, in particular districts, there were 
certain prevailing directions in which the 
fissures opened, and they accordingly 
felled the tallest trees, making (hem fall 
at right angles to the direction of the 
chasms. By stationing themselves on 
these, the inhabitants often escaped being 
swallowed up when the earth opened 
beneath them. 

During the visit of Sir Charles Lyell to 
this region, in 1846, Mr. Bringier, the 
well-known engineer, related to him that 
he was on horseback near New Madrid, in 
1811, when some of the severest shocks 
were experienced, and that, as the waves 
advanced, he saw the trees bend down, and 
often, the instant afterward, when in the 
act of recovering their position, meet the 
boughs of other trees similarly inclined, so 
as to become interlocked, being prevented 
from righting themselves again. The 
transit of the wave through the woods was 
marked by the crashing noise of countless 
branches, first heard on one side and then 
on the other. At the same time, powerful 
jets of water, mixed with sand, loam and 
bituminous shale, were cast up with such 
impetuosity, that both horse and rider 



might have perished, had the swelling and 
upheaving ground happened to burst im- 
mediately beneath them. Some of the 
shocks were perpendicular, while others, 
much more desolating, were horizontal, or 
moved along like great waves ; and where 
the principal fountains of mud and water 
were thrown up, circular cavities, called 
sink-holes, were formed. 

Hearing that some of these cavities still 
existed near the town, Professor Ljell 
went to see one of them, three-quarters of 
a mile to the westward. There he found 
a nearly circular hollow, ten yards wide, 
and five feet deep, with a smaller one near 
it, and, scattered about the surrounding 
level ground, were fragments of black 
bituminous shale, with much white sand. 
Within a distance of a few hundred yards, 
were five more of these " sand-bursts," or 
" sand-blows," as they are sometimes 
termed, and, about a mile farther west, 
there is still pointed out " the sink-hole 
where the negro was drowned." It is a 
striking object, interrupting the regularitj' 
of a flat plain, the sides very steep, and 
twentj'-eight feet deep from the top to the 
water's edge. 

In the interesting account of this region 
and of the event in question, furnished by 
Professor Lyell, in his book of travels, he 
relates the reminiscences of a citizen of 
New Madrid, who witnessed the earth- 
quake when a child. He described the 
camping out of the people in the night 
when the first shocks occurred, and how 
some were wounded by the falling of chim- 
neys, and the bodies of others drawn out 
of the ruins ; and confirmed the published 
statements of the inhabitants having 
availed themselves of fallen trees to avoiii 
being engulfed in open fissures, — a singu- 
lar mode of escape, which, curiously 
enough, had been adopted spontaneously 
in different and widely-distant places, at 
the same time, even little children throw- 
ing themselves thus on the felled trunks. 
Lyell was then invited to go and see sev- 
eral fissures still open, which had been 
caused by the undulatory movement of the 
ground, some of them jagged, others even 



EARTHQUAKE AT THE WEST. 



161 



and straight. Two of them were traced 
continuously for more than half a mile, 
and a few were found to be parallel ; but, 
on the whole, they varied greatly in direc- 
tion, some being ten and others forty-five 
degrees west of north. They might easily 
have been mistaken for artificial trenches, 
though formerly as deep as wells ; the 
action of rains, frost, and occasional inun- 
dations, and, above all, the leaves of the 
forest blown into them in countless num- 
bers, have done much to fill them up. 

In that part of the forest which borders 
what is called the "sunk country," all the 
trees of a date prior to 1811, although 
standing erect and entire, are dead. They 
are most noticeable objects, are chiefly 
oaks and walnuts, with trunks several feet 
in diameter, and many of them more than 
two hundred years old. They are sup- 
posed to have been killed by the loosening 
of the roots during the repeated undula- 
tions which passed through the soil for 
three months in succession. The higher 
level plain, where these dead monarchs of 
the forest stand, terminates abruptly 



newer tlian 1812. The " sunk country " 
extends along the course of the White 
Water and its tributaries for a distance of 
between seventy and eighty miles north 
and south, and thirty miles east and west. 
It is not, however, confined to the region 
west of the Mississippi ; for several exten- 
sive forest tracts in Tennessee were sub- 
merged during the shocks of 1811-12, 
and have ever since formed lakes and 
swamps. 

The earthquakes in California, especially 
those which occurred in 1865 and 1868, 
and both in the month of October, were 
the most disastrous in respect to the value 
of property destroj-ed, that of October 21, 
1868, being particularly so. At San 
Francisco, the motion was east and west, 
and several buildings on Pine, Battery, 
and Sansome streets were thrown down, 
and a considerable number badly damaged. 
The ground settled, which threw the build- 
ings out of line. The jirincipal damage 
was confined to the lower portion of the 
city, below Montgomery street, and among 
old buildings on the made ground. The 




EARTlIyrAKE SCENE I>; SAN FRANCISCO. 



toward the bayou St. John, and the sudden 
descent of eight or ten feet throughout an 
area four or five miles long, and fifty or 
sixty broad, was one of the strange results 
of the earthquake. At the lower level are 
seen cypresses and cotton-wood, and other 
trees which delight in wet ground, all 
11 



custom-house, a brick building erected on 
pile ground, which was badly shattered in 
the earthquake of 1865, had now to be 
abandoned as unsafe. Business in the 
lower part of the city was suspended, the 
streets were thronged with people, and 
great excitement prevailed. The parapets, 



162 



EARTHQUAKE AT THE WEST. 



walls and rliimneys of a number of houses 
fell, causing loss of life and many accidents. 
At one place, the ground opened several 
inches wide and about forty or fifty feet 
long ; and in other places, the ground 
opened, and water forced itself above the 
surface. The water in the bay was per- 
fectly smooth at the time of the occurrence, 
and no perceptible disturbance took place 
there ; the shock was felt aboard the sliip- 
ping in the harbor, as if the vessels had 
struck upon the rocks. The morning was 
moderately warm, and a dense fog covered 
the city. Not the slightest breeze was 
perceptible. The first indication of the 
approach of the earthquake was a slight 
rumbling sound, as of something rolling 
along the sidewalk, coming apparently 
from the direction of the ocean. The 
shock commenced in the form of slow, hor- 
izontal movements, while the movements 
of the great earthquake of 1865 were per- 
pendicular. The effect on buildings, too, 
of the earthquake of 1868, was widely dif- 
ferent from that of 1865. In the latter, 
glass was broken and shivered into atoms 
in all the lower parts of the citj', by the 
perpendicular oscillations, while compara- 
tively few walls were shaken down or badly 
shattered. The earthquake of 1868 broke 
very little glass, but the damage by the 
falling of cornices, awnings, and walls, 
was immense. Mantel ornaments and 
shelved crockery were everywhere thrown 



down and broken ; top-heavy articles of 
furniture tumbled over ; tanks and dishes 
containing water or other liquids slopped 
their contents; clocks stopped running; 
door -bells rang ; tall structures, like 
steeples and towers, were seen to sway, 
and the motion of the earth under the 
feet was unpleasantly plain to walkers; 
horses started and snorted, e.xhibiting 
every sign of fear, and in some cases dash- 
ing off furiously with their riders; dogs 
crouched, trembling and whining ; aiMl 
fowls flew to the trees, uttering notes oi 
alarm. The panic among women and 
children was, for a time, excessive, ana 
their cries and tears were very moving. 

At Oakland, the shock was very severe, 
throwing down chimnej-s, and greatly 
damaging buildings ; in several localities, 
the ground opened, and a strong suljihu- 
rous smell was noticed after the shock. 
The court-house at San Leandro was 
demolished and one life lost. At Saa 
Jose, several buildings were injured. The 
large brick court-house at Redwood City 
was completely wrecked. The shock was 
light at Mar^'sville and Sonora, and severe 
at Grass Valley. It was also felt, with a 
good deal of severity, in Stockton, Sonoma, 
San Lorenzo, Alvarado, San Mateo, Peta- 
luma, Vallejo, and Sacramento; in the 
latter place, flag-staffs and trees vibrated 
ten feet, and the water in the river rosa 
and fell a foot and a half. 



XX. 



AMERICA AND ENGLAND MATCHED AGAINST EACH 
OTHER IN SQUADRON COMBAT.— 1813. 



Lake Erie the Scene of the Encounter— Sixteen Vessels Eneaged.— The Rritish, under Captain Bar 
clay, one of Lord Nelson's Veteran Officers, and with a Superior Force, are Thoroughly Beaten by 
the Americans, under Commodore Oliver H. Perry .—Every British Vessel Captured —General Harrison 
Completes the Victorious Work on Land —Building of the Fleet on the Lake.— Great Difficulties to be 
Overcome.— Commodore Perry the Master Spirit.— Completion and Sailing of the Fleet.— Challenge 
to the Enemy— Line of Battle Formed.- Perry's Blue Union-Jack.— Its Motto, " Don't Give Up the 
Ship ! "—Wild Enthusiasm of his Men.— Flagship Lawrence in the Van —Meets the Whole Opposing 
yieet— Badly Crippled in a T\\o Hours' Fight.— Huzzas of the Enemy —The Day Supposed to be 
Tlieirs —Indomitable Resolution of Perry.— He Puts OflFin an Open Boat —Reaches the Niagara with 
His Flag.— Again Battles with the Foe.— Severe and Deadlv Conflict.— American I'rowess Invincible. 
—Barclay Strikes His Colors.— Perry only Twenty-seven Years Old. 



»Wehavcmcttheeiitmy.«ndthey.reour..--rLKliTS MtM.)B*Iil.E Dispatch Assou»c1no U:s VicioET, 




fOREIGN nations, who still smiled incredulously at the pre- 
tensions of the United States in carrying on an ocean war- 
^; fare with the proud "mistress of the seas,"— as England 
was everywhere acknowledged to be, — were now to receive, 
in addition to the splendid victory of the United States 
0,S^--. frigate Constitution over the Guerriere, fresh and decisive 

PERRY'S FLAG ON LAKE ERIE, proof of thc naval supremacy of the youthful republic, in the 
magnificent triumph achieved by Commodore Oliver H. Perry, on the waters of Lake 
Erie. Here, for the first time in the history of the western world, the flag of a 
British squadron was struck, humiliatingly, to the Americans. Great Britain had 
already been signally defeated in single naval combats, during the present contest; 
she was now beaten in squadron, — every one of her ships striking their colors to 
the stars and stripes. 

The unexpected and disgraceful surrender of the northern army under General 
Hull, to the British, rendered a superior force on Lake Erie necessary for the de- 
fense of the American territory bordering on the lake, as well as for offensive opera- 
tions in Canada. Under these circumstances Oliver H. Perry, a brave and accom- 
plished young officer, who had the command of a gunboat flotilla for the defense 
of New York, was designated to the command on Lake Erie. But, at this time, the 
United States possessed no naval force on the lake ; the only vessels belonging to 
the government were captured at Detroit. The southern or American lake shore, 
being principally a sand beach formed by the sediment driven by the northerly 



164 



THE FIRST SQUADRON COMBAT. 



winds, afforded but few harbors, and those 
encumbered with bars at their entrance. 
At Presque Isle, ninety miles west of Buf- 
falo, a peninsula extending a considerable 
distance into the lake encircles a harbor, on 
the borders of which was the port of Erie. 

At this place. Commodore Perry was 
directed to locate, and superintend a naval 
establishment, the object of which was to 
create a superior force on the Like. The 
difficulties of building a navy in the \t:.- 
derness can only be conceived by those 
who have experienced them. There was 
nothing at this spot out of which it could 
be built, but the timber of the forest. 
Ship-builders, sailors, naval stores, guns, 
and ammunition, were all to be transported 
by land, in wagons, and over bad roads, a 
distance of four hundred miles, either from 
Albany by the way of Buffalo, cr from 
Philadelphia by the way of Pittsburg. 
But under all these embarrassments, ty 
the first of August, 1813, Commodore 
Perry had provided a flotilla, consisting of 
the ships Lawrence and Niagara, of twenty 
guns each, and seven smaller vessels, to 
wit, one of four guns, one of three, two of 
two, and three of one. 

While the ships were building, the 
enemy frequently appeared otf the harbor 
and threatened their destruction ; but the 
shallowness of the water on the bar, there 
being but five feet, prevented their ap- 
proach. The same cause, which insured 
the safety of the vessels while building, 
seemed likely to prevent their being of 
any service when completed. The two 
largest drew several feet more water than 
there was on the bar. The inventive 
genius of Perry, however, soon surmounted 
this difficulty. He placed large scows on 
each side of these two, filled them so that 
they sank to the water-edge, then attached 
them to the ships by strong pieces of 
timber, and pumped out the water. The 
scows, in this way, buoyed up the shijjs, 
enabling them to pass the bar in safety. 
This operation was performed in the very 
eyes of the enemy. 

Having gotten his fleet in readiness. 
Commodore Perry proceeded to the head 



of the lake and anchored in Put-in Bay, 
opposite to and distant thirty miles from 
Maiden, where the British fleet lay under 
the guns of the fort. He remained at 
anchor here several days, watching the 
British fleet, and waiting a chance to 
offer battle. 

On the morning of the tenth of Septem- 
ber, 1813, the enemy was discovered bear- 
ing down upon the American force, which 
immediately got under weigh, and stood 
out to meet him. Perry had nine vessels, 
consisting of the Lawrence, his flag-ship, 
of twenty guns ; the Niagara, Captain 
Elliott, of twenty ; the Caledonian, Lieu- 
tenant Turner, of three; the schooner 
Ariel, of four ; the Scorpion, of two ; the 
Somers, of two guns and two swivels ; the 
sloop Trippe, and schooners Tigress and 
Porcupine, of one gun each. 

The force of the British consisted of the 
Detroit, flag-ship of Commodore Barclay, 
and carrj'ing nineteen guns and two how- 
itzers ; the Queen Charlotte, Captain 
Finnis, of seventeen guns ; the schooner 
Lady Prevost, Lieutenant Buchan, of 
thirteen guns and two howitzers ; the brig 
Hunter, of ten guns ; the sloop Little 
Belt, of three guns ; and the schooner 
Chippewa, of one gun and two swivels. 
Thus, the belligerents stood, in respect to 
force and power, as follows : The Ameri- 
cans had nine vessels, carrying fifty-four 
guns and two swivels ; the British, six 
vessels, carrying sixty-three guns, four 
howitzers, and two swivels. 

Commodore Perry got under way with 
a light breeze at the south-west. Sum- 
moning his commanding officers by signal 
to the deck of the Lawrence, he gave them 
in a few words their last instructions pre- 
paratory to the approaching battle, and, 
unfolding his union-jack, a blue flag upon 
which was inscribed in white letters the 
motto of the American navy, "Don't 
GIVE lip THE SHIP ! " The sight of this 
flag, bearing upon it the d^'ing words of 
the brave Captain Lawrence, brought the 
most enthusiastic cheers from the crew. 
As the officers were about taking their 
leave. Perry declared that it was his 



THE FIRST SQUADRON COMBAT. 



ItiO 



intention to bring the enemy to close quar- 
ters from the first, and that he could not 
advise them better than in the words of 
Lord Nelson — " If 30U lay your enemy 
close alongside, you can not be out of your 
place." As soon, therefore, as the ap- 
laroach of the enemy warranted the display 
of the signal, every vessel was under sail, 
beating out against a light head-wind, and 
with the boats ahead towing. The object 
was, .to beat to the windward of the 
islands which now interposed between the 
two approaching squadrons, and, thus gain- 
ing the weather-gauge, to bear down with 
that important advantage upon the foe. 
The wind, however, was light and bafHing; 
and Perry's patience was so severely tried 
by the incessant tacking, that, seeing time 
lost, and but little progress made, he 
called out to his sailing-master, — 

"Taylor, you wear ship and run to the 
leeward of the islands." 

" Then we'll have to engage the enemy 
from the leeward," exclaimed Taylor. 

"I don't care — to windward or to lee- 
ward, they shall fight to-daij," was Perry's 
instant response. 





He now formed the line of battle, the 
wind suddenly shifting to the south-east, 
thus bearing the squadron clear of the 
islands, and enabling it to keep the 
weather-gauge. But the moderateness of 
the breeze caused the hostile squadrons to 
approach each other but slowly, thus pro- 



longing the solemn interval of suspense 
and anxiety which precedes a battle. The 
order and regularity of naval discipline 
heightened the dreadful quiet of this 
impressive prelude. No noise, no bustle, 
prevailed to distract the mind — except, at 
inter'fals, the shrill pipings of the boat- 
swain's whistle, or a murmuring whisper 
among the men, who stood in groups 
around their guns, with lighted matches, 
narrowly watching the movements of the 
foe, and sometimes stealing a glance at the 
countenances of their commanders. In 
this manner, the opposing fleets graduallj' 
neared each other in awful silence. Even 
the sick felt a thrill of the pervading deep 
emotion, and, with fancied renewal of 
strength, offered their feeble services in 
the coming conflict. To one of these poor 
fellows, who had crawled ujs on deck, to 
have a hand in the fight, the sailing-master 
said: 

" Go below. Mays, j'ou are too weak to 
be here." 

" I can do something, sir," rej)lied the 
brave old tar. 

" What can you do ? " 

" I can sound the pump, sir, and let a 
strong man go to the guns." 

It was even so. He sat down by the 
pump, and sent the strong man to the 
guns; and when the fight was ended, 
there he was found, with a ball in his 
heart. He was from Newport; his name, 
Wilson Mays ; his monument and epitaph, 
the grateful memory of a whole nation. 

As they were coming nearer and nearer 
the British fleet (says Dr. Tomes, in his 
admirable delineation of this battle), and 
by twelve o'clock would certainly be in 
the midst of action, the noondaj'-grog was 
served in advance, and the bread-bags 
freely emptied. In a moment after, how- 
ever, every man was again at quarters. 
Perry now went round the deck, from gun 
to gun, stopping at each, carefully exam- 
ining its condition, and passing a cheerful 
word with the "captain." Recognizing 
some of the old tars who had served on 
board the Constitution, he said, " Well, 
boys ! are you ready ? " " All ready, 



166 



THE FIRST SQUADRON COMBAT. 



your honor ! " was the promjtt replj', as 
they touched their tarijaulins, or the hand- 
kerchiefs in which some of thetn had 
wrapped their heads, that they might be as 
unencumbered as possible for the fight. 
"But I need not say anything to you," 
rejoined their commander — "?/o« know 
how to beat these fellows" — and he passed 
on. His face now beamed with a smile of 
friendly interest as lie recognized some of 
his fellow-townsmen, exclaiming, " Ah, 
here are the Newport boys ! They will do 
their duty, I warrant." 

At fifteen minutes after eleven, a bugle 
was sounded on board the enemy's head- 
most ship, the Detroit, loud cheers burst 
from all their crews, and a tremendous fire 
opened upon the Lawrence, from the 
British long-guns, and which, from the 
shortness of the Lawrence's, the latter was 
obliged to sustain for some forty minutes, 
without being able to return a shot. 

Losing no time in waiting for the other 
ships, Commodore Perry kept on his course 
in such gallant and determined style, that 
the enemy supposed he meant immediately 
to board. At about twelve o'clock, having 
gained a more favorable position, the Law- 
rence opened her fire, but the long-guns of 
the British still gave them greatly the 
advantage, and the Lawrence was exceed- 
ingly cut up, without being able to do 
much of any damage in return. Their 
shot pierced her side in all directions, even 
killing the men in the berth-deck and 
steerage, where they had been carried to 
be dressed. One shot had nearlj' produced 
a fatal explosion ; passing through the 
light room, it knocked the snuff of the 
candle into the magazine — but which was 
fortunately seen by the gunne-, who had 
the presence of mind immediately to seize 
and extinguish it. It appeared to be the 
enemy's plan at all events to destroy the 
commander's ship ; their heaviest fire was 
directed against the Lawrence, and blazed 
incessantly from all their largest vessels. 

Finding the peculiar and imminent 
hazard of his situation, Perry made all 
sail, and directed the other vessels to 
follow, for the purpose of closing with the 



enemy. The tremendous fire, however, 
to which he was exposed, soon cut away 
every brace and bowline of the Lawrence, 
and she became unmanageable. The other 
vessels were unable to get up ; and in this 
disastrous situation, therefore, she still 
continued to sustain the main force of the 
enemy's fire, within canister distance, 
though, during a considerable part of this 
terrible ordeal, not more than two or three 
of her guns could be brought to bear with 
any material effect upon her antagonist. 

Throughout all this scene of ghastly 
horror, however, the utmost order and reg- 
ularity prevailed, without the least sign of 
trepidation or faintheartedness ; as fast as 
the men at the guns were wounded, they 
were quietly carried below, and others 
stepped manfully into their places ; the 
dead remained where they fell, until after 
the action. 

At this juncture, the enemy believed 
the battle to be won. The Lawrence was 
reduced to a mere wreck ; her deck was 
streaming with blood, and covered with 
the mangled limbs and bodies of the slain, 
nearlj' the whole of her crew were either 
killed or wo\mded; her guns, too, were 
dismounted, — the commodore and his offi- 
cers personally working the last that was 
capable of service, assisted by the few 
hands yet remaining capable of duty. 
According to the account given by Dr. 
Parsons, the surgeon of the Lawrence, the 
muscular material was reduced to its abso- 
lute minimum. "When the battle had 
raged an hour and a lialf," says Dr. Par- 
sons, " I heard a call for me at the small 
skylight, and, stepping toward it, I saw it 
was the commodore, whose countenance 
was calm and placid as if on ordinary 
duty. ' Doctor,' said he, ' send me one of 
your men,' — meaning one of the six that 
were to assist me ; which was done in- 
stantly. In five minutes the call was 
repeated and obeyed ; and at the seventh 
call, I told him he had them all. He 
asked if any could pull a rope, when two 
or three of the wounded crawled upon deck 
to lend a feeble hand in pulling at the last 
guns." So close and desperate was this 



THE FIEST SQUADRON COMBAT. 



16: 






■' «j 




conflict; so brave and courageous 
tlie hearts of those who fought for 
tlie honor and rights of America. 

It was two o'clock, and Caiitain 
Elliott, of the Niagara, was 
enabled by the aid of a fresh 
breeze to bring his ship into 
close action in gallant stj'le. 
Finding, now, that no resistance 
or hostility on the part of the 
Lawrence could be profitably per- 
sisted in, Perry suddenly formed 
the determination to shift his flag 
to Elliott's ship; and, leaving his 
own vessel in charge of her 
lieutenant, the brave and gallant 
Yarnall, he liauled down his 
union-jack, and, taking it under 
his arm, ordered a boat to jiut 
hini on board the Niagara. He 
passed the line of tlie enemy, 
exposed to a perfect shower of 
tjieir musketry, still standing in 
the boat, — waving liis sword ami 
gallantly cheering his men, — a 
nnrked and pointed oliject from 
three of the enemy's ships, until 
he was forcibly pulled down by 
his own men. He arrived safe, 
and tumultuous huzzas rent the 
air as he again unfurled and 
hoisted aloft his union-jack, with 
its inspiring motto, 'Don't give 
up the ship ! ' gaily kissing the 
breeze. On seeing their noble 
commander step upon the deck of 
the Niagara, the crew of the 
Lawrence — the few that j'et 
remained — sent up three lusty 
cheers. The question with which 
Elliott first saluted Perry was — 

" How is the day going ? " 

" Badly ! " was the brief reply ; 
"and do you see those infernal 
gun-boats — they have lost us the 
victorj' ! " 

"No!" exclaimed Elliott; "do 
you take command of this ship, 
and I will bring up the boats." 

Elliott at once put off, to bring 
up the schooners which had been 



168 



THE FIRST SQUADRON COMBAT. 



kept back by the lightness of the wind. 
At this moment, the flag of the Lawrence 
was hauled down. Lieutenant Yarnall, 
upon whom the command of the vessel 
devolved after the commodore left her, 
refused for some time to leave the deck, 
though more than once wounded; and 
Lieutenant Brooks and Midshipman Saul 
were both killed. As the surgeon was 
stooping, in the act of dressing or examin- 
ing a wound, a ball passed through the 
ship a few inches from his head, which, 
had it been erect, must have been taken 
off. The principal force of the enemy's fire 
had now been sustained uninterruptedly 
by the Lawrence, and, as she was rendered 
totally incapable of defense, any further 
show of resistance would have been a use- 
less sacrifice of the remnant of her brave 
and mangled crew. The enemy were at 
the same time so crippled, that they were 
unable to take possession of her, and cir- 
cumstances soon enabled her crew again 
to raise the American flag. 

Commodore Perry now gave the signal 
to all the vessels for close action. The 
small vessels, under the direction of Elli- 
ott, got out their sweeps, and made all 
sail. On an inspection of the Niagara, 
and finding her but little injured, Perry 
determined upon the bold and desperate 
expedient of breaking the enemy's line ; 
he accordingly bore up and passed the 
head of the two ships and brig, giving 
them a raking fire from liis starboard 
guns, and also a raking fire upon a large 
schooner and sloop, from his larboard 
quarter, at half pistol shot. 

Having brought the whole squadron 
into action, Perry luffed up and laid his 
ship alongside of the British commodore, 
Barclay, of the Lady Prevost. Approach- 
ing within half pistol shot, Perry's fire 
was so destructive that the enemy's men 
were compelled to run below. At this 
moment the wind freshened, and the Cal- 
edonia came up and opened her fire upon 
the British ; and several others of the 
squadron were enabled soon after to do 
the same, — the small vessels having now 
got up within good grape-and-canister 



distance on the other quarter, inclosed 
their enemy between them and the Niag- 
ara, and in this position kept up a most 
deadly fire on both quarters of the British. 
For a time, the combat raged with inde- 
scribable violence and fury. The result of 
a campaign — the command of a sea — the 
glory and renown of two rival nations 
matched for the first time in squadron, — 
these were the issues at stake which in- 
spirited the combatants. The contest was 
not long doubtful. The Queen Charlotte 
having lost her captain and all her princi- 
pal officers, by some mischance ran foul of 
her colleague, the Detroit. By this acci- 
dent, the greater jjart of their guns were 
rendered useless, and the two ships were 
now in turn compelled to sustain an inces- 
sant fire from the Niagara and the other 
vessels of the American squadron. The 
flag of Captain Barclay soon struck ; and 
the Queen Charlotte, the Lady Prevost, 
the Hunter, and the Chippewa, surren- 
dered in immediate succession. The 
Little Belt attempted to escape, but was 
pursued by two gun-boats, and captured. 
Tims, after a contest of three hours, was a 
naval victory achieved by the Americans, 
in which every vessel of the enemy was 
captured. If anything could enhance its 
brilliancy it was the modest and laconic 
manner in which, Ctesar-like, it was 
announced by the gallant victor — 
"we have met the enemy, and thet 

ARE OURS ! " 

The carnage in this action v. as very 
great in proportion to the numbers en- 
gaged. The Americans had twenty-seven 
killed, and ninety-six wounded. The loss 
of the British was about two hundred in 
killed and wounded, many of these being 
officers ; and the prisoners, amounting to 
six hundred, exceeded the whole number 
of Americans. Commodore Barclay, a 
gallant sailor, one of whose arms had been 
shot off at the battle of Trafalgar, under 
Lord Nelson, was severely wounded in the 
hip, and lost the use of his remaining arm. 
Perry was but twenty-seven years old, and 
had scarcely recovered from an attack of 
the lake-fever, when he thus ' met the 



THE FIRST SQUADRON COMBAT. 



169 



enemy,' — a circumstance that heightens 
the estimate to be put upon his indomita- 
ble perseverance and bravery on this occa- 
sion. To his adroit transfer of his com- 
mand to the Niagara, passing through the 
thickest of the battle in an open boat, may 
fairly be attributed his brilliant fortune 
on that eventful day. His success raised 
him to the very pinnacle of professional 
renown, and the naval supremacy of the 
United States upon the lakes was tri- 
umphantly secured. 

This important and decisive battle was 
fought midway of the lake, between the 
two hostile armies, who lay on the oppo- 
site shores, waiting in anxious expectation 
of its result, — the allied British and Indian 
forces, to the amount of nearly five thou- 
sand, under Proctor and Tecuniseh, being 
ready, in case of a successful issue, to 
renew their ravages on the American 
borders. The fruits of this victory, there- 
fore, were such as to cause unbounded 
demonstrations of joy in the United States. 
All party-feelings were for the time for- 
gotten ; and the glorious occurrence was 
celebrated by illuminations and festivities, 
from one end of the continent to the other. 
During this same year, our gallant navy 
was victorious in the capture of the slooj>- 
of-war Peacock, by Captain James Law- 
rence ; and in the capture of the brig 
Boxer, by the Enterprise, commanded by 
Lieutenant Barrows. The British, how- 
ever, on the first of June, rejoiced in the 
capture of the Chesapeake by the frigate 
Shannon, off Boston harbor, and, on the 
fourteenth of August, in the capture of the 
Argus, Captain Allen, by the Pelican. 
The British were also victorious on land, 
at the battles of Mackinaw, Queenstown, 
Frenchtown, and some other points ; but 
lost the battles of York, Fort Meigs, and 
the Thames. The proposed invasion of 
Canada, under the direction of Generals 
Dearborn, Wilkinson, Hampton, Lewis, 
and Izard, proved a failure. Such a vic- 
tory, therefore, as that of Perry, was well 
calculated to Jill the nation irith jo;/. 

The struggle being ended, and Perry 
acquainting himself with the condition 



and wants of the several vessels and their 
crews, at last visited the shattered remains 
of the Lawrence. The deck was slip- 
pery with blood and brains, and strewed 
with the bodies of officers and men, and 
the ship resounded everywhere with the 
groans of the wounded. Those of the 
crew who were spared and able to walk or 
limp, approached the gallant captain with 
tears in their ej'es, and with outstretched 
arms of welcome ; but the salutation was 
a silent one on both sides, — so overcome 
with emotion were the hearts of these 
brave men, that not a word could find 
iitterance. The principal loss in the 
whole action was on board the Lawrence, 
so indomitable was Perry's resolution not 
to be conquered. In memory of this he- 
roic service to his country, there was 
erected in 1860, at Cleveland, Ohio, near 
the scene of his great battle, a marble 
statue b^' Walcutt. 

Two days after the battle, two Indian 
chiefs who had been selected for their 
skill as marksmen, and stationed in the 
tops of the Detroit for the purpose of pick- 
ing off the American officers, were found 
snugly stowed away in the hold- of that 
ship. These savages, who had been ac- 
customed to vessels of no greater magni- 
tude than what they could sling upon their 
backs, when the action became warm, 
were so panic-struck at the terrors of the 
scene and at the strange perils surround- 
ing them, that, looking at each other in 
amazement, they vociferated their signifi- 
cant ' Quonth ! ' and precipitately de- 
scended to the hold. In their British 
uniforms, hanging in bags upon their fam- 
ished bodies, they were now brought be- 
fore Commodore Perry, fed, and discharged, 
— no further parole being necessary to 
prevent their ever engaging again in a 
similar contest. 

The slain of the crews of both squadrons 
were committed to the lake immediately 
after the action; and, the next day, the 
funeral obsequies of the American and 
British officers who had fallen, were per- 
formed at an opening on the margin of 
the bay, in an appropriate and affecting 



170 



THE FIRST SQUADRON COMBAT, 



manner. The crews of both fleets united 
in the ceremony. The autumnal stillness 
of the weather — the procession of boats — 
the music — the slow auJ regular motion 
of the oars, striking in exact time with the 
notes of the solemn dirge — the mournful 
waving of the flags — the sound of the 
minute-guns from all the ships — the wild 
and solitary aspect of the place ; — .all these 
gave to this funeral ceremonial a most 
impressive influence, in striking contrast 
with the terrible conflict of the preceding 
day. Two American and three British 
officers were interred side by side of each 
other, in this lonely jjlace of sepulture, on 
the margin of the lake, a few paces from 
the beach. 

In liis official dispatch. Perry speaks in 
the highest terms of the co-operation, 
bravery and judgment, of his associate, 
Captain Elliott. Nevertheless, there is 
universal agreement with the assertion 
made bj' Mackenzie, the appreciating biog- 
rapher of this heroic commander, that the 
battle of Erie was won not merelj' by the 
genius and inspiration, but eminently by 
the exertions, of one man, — a young man 
of twenty-seven, who had never beheld a 
naval engagement. He had dashed boldly 
into action with the Lawrence, trusting 
that the rear of his line would soon be 
able to close up to his support. Sustained, 
however, only by the Caledonia, the Ariel, 
and the Scorpion, he resisted for two hours 
or more the whole of the British squadron. 
Overcome at last, Perry made a new ar- 
rangement of his remsininc resources, and 
snatched from the enemy, with desperate 



obstinacy, a victory which that enemy had 
already claimed with exulting cheers for 
his own. This he accomplished by an 
evolution unsurpassed for genius and hard- 
ihood, bearing down with dauntless assur- 
ance upon the whole of the opposing fleet, 
and dashing with his fresh and uninjured 
vessel through the enemy's line, to their 
dismay and complete discomfiture. And 




this victory on the lake was so much the 
more important from its enabling General 
H.arrison to recover from the British in- 
vaders the American territorj- which they 
had occupied, and to pursue them into 
Canada, where, on the fifth of October, 
they were totally routed in tlie battle of 
the Thames. Nearly all the British force 
was either captured or slain, and their 
famous Indian ally, Tecumseh, here ended 
his life. 



XXI. 

GENERAL JACKSON'S TERRIBLE ROUT AND SLAUGHTER 
OF THE BRITISH ARMY AT NEW ORLEANS.— 1815. 



His Consummate Generalsliip in the Order anJ ConJuct of tliis Campaign.— The War with England 
Terminated by a Sudden and Splendid Victory to the American Arms— Jackson is Hailed as One 
of tlie Greatest of Modern Warriors, and as the Deliverer and Second Savior of His Country.- 
National Military Prestige Gained by this Decisive Battle —British Invasion of Louisiana.— Prepar- 
ations to Resist Them— Jackson Hastens to New Orleans— His Presence Inspires Confidence.— 
Martial Law Proclaimed.— Progress of the British Forces— They Rendezvous at Ship Island.- 
Pirates and Indians for Allies.— Capture of the United States Flotilla.— Arrival of Veterans from 
Kngland— Desperate Attempts at Storming.— Both Armies Face Each Other.— The Day of Action, 
January Eighth.— General Pakenham Leads the Charge.— His Motto, " Booty and Beauty."— Fire 
and Death Open Upon Them.— They are Mown Down Like Grass.— Pakenham Falls at the Onset. 
—Panic and Precipitate Retreat —America's Motto, " Victory or Death."— The Result at Home and 
Abroad — Startling and Impressive Effect. 



•• The redcoots will find out whom they have to deal with. I will Bnia.h them, eo help me OodP'-GBHEEAI. J.1CK90X, OK ASsaalMO 

TDE DEFENSE OF NKW OllLKA.VS. 




AMERICAN DI:Fl;^SE3 AT NEW ORLEANS 




T is a fact fruitful of the most suggestive reflections, 
that, had the facilities of communication by steam 
and electricity been enjoyed in 1815, as they are at 
the present time, the battle of New Orleans, and 
the blood which flowed so freely on that memorable 
occasion, would have been spared ; for, only two 
j£ weeks previous to the sanguinary conflict, namely, on the 24tli 
of December, 1814, the treaty of peace between the United 
States and Great Britain was signed at Ghent, by the ap- 
pointed commissioners, — a most joyous event to all, but the 
tidings of which did not, unfortunately, reach the contending 
armies in Louisiana, until several weeks after the battle took 
place. Nevertheless, perhaps no other battle in American 
annals, up to that period, had given such prestige to the valor 
of American arms, nor cau any estimate be made of the 



172 



BATTLE OF NEW ORLEANS. 



immense consequences of that victory to 
General Jackson and his countrj'. Mr. 
Bancroft, the historian, sa3's that the 
heroes of antiquity would have contem- 
plated with awe the unmatched hardihood 
of Jackson's character. 

The circumstances which led to a battle 
so creditable in its result to the genius 
and bravery of the American army were 
as follows : On the twenty-fifth of August, 
1814, a British army landed at Pensacola, 
and took forcible possession of the place, 
being aided by the Spaniards in all their 
proceedings ; they collected all the Indians 
that would resort to their standard; and 
Colonel Nichols, the chief British com- 
mander, even sent an officer to the notori- 
ous piratical establishment at Barataria 
to enlist the chief, Lafitte, and his follow- 
ers, in their cause, the most liberal and 
tempting inducements being held out. 
These people, however, showed a decided 
preference for the American cause, and, 
deceiving the English by delaj-, conveyed 
intelligence of their designs to the gov- 
ernor of New Orleans, and frankly offered 
their services to defend the countrj'. Dis- 
appointed in securing their aid, the expe- 
dition proceeded to the attack of Fort 
Bowyer, on Mobile j)oint, commanded by 
Major Lawrence. The result, however, 
was a loss to the besiegers of more than 
two hundred men ; the commodore's ship 
was so disabled that they set fire to her, 
and she blew up, and the remaining three 
vessels, shattered and filled with wounded 
men, returned to Pensacola. While the 
British were thus sheltered in this place, 
busily occupied in bringing over the Indi- 
ans to join them. General Jackson, — who, 
after the peace with the Creeks had become 
active commander at the south, — formed 
an expedition of about four thousand men, 
to dislodge them. He summoned the 
town, was refused entrance by the Spanish 
governor, and his flag of truce was fired 
upon ; the British soldiers being also in 
the forts, where their flag had been 
hoisted, in conjunction with the Spanish, 
the day before the American forces 
appeared. Preparations were immediately 



made to carry the jilaco ; one battery 
having been taken by storm, with slight 
less on either side, the governor surren- 
dei°d, the English having previously 
retired on board their ships. The forts 
below, which commanded the passage, 
were blown up, and this enabled the 
English fleet to j)ut to sea. 

Returning to Mobile, General Jackson 
learned that preparations were making by 
the British for the invasion of Louisiana, 
and with especial reference to an attack 
on New Orleans. 

He according]) hastened toNewOrleans, 
which he found in great alarm and confu- 
sion. He at once put in operation the 
most rigorous measures of defense. The 
militia of Louisiana and Mississippi were 
ordered out en masse, and large detach- 
ments from Tennessee and Kentucky. 
From a previous correspondence with Gov- 
ernor Claiborne, General Jackson had been 
informed that the city corps had, for the 
most part, refused obedience to the orders 
which had been given them to turn out ; 
that they had been encouraged in their dis- 
obedience by the state legislature, then in 
session in the city ; and that, although 
there were many faithful citizens in the 
place, there were many others who were 
more devoted to the interests of Spain, and 
others still whose hostility to the English 
was less observable than their dislike to 
American government. 

Under these circumstances, and finding 
that the statements relative to the disaf- 
fection of the populace were f ullj- confirmed, 
Jackson, on consultation with the gover- 
nor, in conjunction with Judge Hall, and 
manj' influential persons of the city, on 
the sixteenth of December, issued an 
order, declaring the city and environs of 
New Orleans to be under strict martial 
law. 

Nor were the military modes and plans 
adopted by General Jackson, outside of 
the city proper, wanting in efficiency. 
Fort St. Philip, which guarded the passage 
of the river at the detour la Plaquemine, 
was strengthened and placed under the 
command of Major Overton, an able and 



BATTUE OF NEW ORLEANS. 



173 



skillful engineer. A site was also selected 
for works of defense, four miles below the 
city, where its destinies were ultimately to 
be determined. The right rested on the 
river, and the left was flanked by an 
impenetrable cypress swamp, which ex- 
tended eastward to Lake Pontchartrain, 
and westward to within a mile of the river. 
Between the swamp and the river was a 
large ditch or artificial bayou which had 
been made for agricultural objects, but 
which now served an important military 
purpose. On the northern bank of this 
ditch, the entrenchments were thrown up, 
and large quantities of cotton-bales so 
arranged, that the troops could be 
effectually protected from the fire of the 
]ii-itish. Each flank was secured by an 
;iJvance bastion, and the latter protected 
by batteries in the rear. These works 
were well mounted with artillery. Oppo- 
site this position, on the west bank of the 
river, on a rising ground. General Morgan, 
with the city and drafted militia, was sta- 
tioned ; and Commodore Patterson, with 
the crews of the Caroline and Louisiana, 
and the guns of the latter, formed another, 
near General Morgan's ; both of which 
entirely enfiladed the approach of an 
enemy against the principal works. A 
detachment was stationed above the town, 
to guard the pass of the bayou St. John, 
if an attempt should be made from that 
quarter. 

On the twenty-second of December, the 
enemy proceeded from their rendezvous on 
Ship island, with all their boats and small 
craft capable of navigating the lake to the 
bayou Bienvenue, and having surprised 
and captured the videttes at the mouth of 
the bayou, the first division accomplished 
their landing unobserved. Major-General 
Villery, of the New Orleans militia, living 
on the bayou, to whom the important 
service of making the first attack, and 
giving notice of the enemy's approach was 
intrusted, found them on his own planta- 
tion, nine miles below the city, without 
any previous knowledge of their approach. 

The morning of New Year's day, 1815, 
was very dark aud foggy amid the swamps 



and bogs of New Orleans, and the day was 
somewhat advanced before the Americans 
discerned how near the enemy had ap- 
proached to them, or the novel use which 
had been made of their molasses and sugar 
hogsheads. In the course of the day, 
under cover of these batteries, three 
unsuccessful attempts were made to storm 
the American works. By four in the 
afternoon, all the enemy's batteries were 
silenced, and the next night found them 
in their former position. 

On the fourth of January, General 
Adair arrived, with four thousand Ken- 
tucky militia, principally without arms. 
The muskets and munitions of war, des- 
tined for the supply of this corps, were 
provided at Pittsburg, but did not leave 
that place until the twenty-fifth of Decem- 
ber, and arrived at New Orleans not until 
several dajs after the decisive battle of 
January eighth. On the sixth, the enemy 
received their last re-enforcement of three 
thousand men from England, under Major- 
General Lambert. But before the final 
assault on the American lines, the British 
general deemed it necessary to dislodge 
General Morgan and Commodore Patter- 
son, from their positions on the right 
bank. These posts so effectually enfiladed 
the approach to General Jackson's works, 
that the army advancing to the assault, 
must be exposed to the most imminent 
hazard. To accomplish this object, boats 
were to be transported across the island 
from lake Borgne to the Mississippi ; for 
this purpose the British had been labori- 
ousl}' emploj'ed in deepening and widening 
the canal or bayou Bienvenue, on which 
they first disembarked. On the seventh, 
they succeeded in opening the embank- 
ment on the river, and completing a com- 
munication from the lake to the Missis- 
sippi. In pushing the boats through, it 
was found, at some places, that the canal 
was not of sufficient width, and at others 
the banks fell in and choked the passage, 
thus occasioning great delay ; at length, 
however, they succeeded in hauling through 
a sufficient number to transport five hun- 
dred troops to the right bank. 



174 



BATTLE OF NEW ORLEANS. 



On the left bank, where General Jack- 
son in person commanded, everything was 
in readiness to meet the assault when it 
should be made. The redoubt on the 
levee was defended by a company under 
Lieutenant Ross. The regular troops 
occupied that part of the entrenchment 
next to the river. General Carroll's divi- 
sion was in the center, supported by Gen- 
eral Adair's Kentucky troops ; while the 
extreme left, extending for a considerable 
distance into the swamp, was protected by 
the brigade of General Coffee. How soon 
the onset should take place, was uncertain ; 
at what moment rested with the enemy, — 
with the Americans, to be in readiness for 



pace with the zeal and preparation of the 
enemy. He seldom slept; he was always 
at his post, performing the duties of both 
general and soldier. His sentinels were 
doubled, and extended as far as possible in 
the direction of the British camp; while a 
considerable portion of the troops were 
constantly at the line, with arms in their 
hands, ready to act, when the first alarm 
should be given. For eight days did the 
two armies remai^i thus upon the same 
field, in battle array and in view of each 
other, without anything decisive on either 
side being effected. Twice, since their 
landing, had the British columns essayed 
to effect by storm the execution of their 



Q ^^^^^^'Z-.-^O^c^je^^ 



resistance. There were many circum- 
stances, however, favoring the belief that 
the hour of contest was fast approaching ; 
the unusual bustle, — the efforts of the 
enemy to carry their boats into the river, 
— the fascines and scaling-ladders that 
were preparing ; all these circumstances 
indicated the hour of attack to be near at 
hand. General Jackson was not only 
unmoved by these appearances, but, accord- 
ing to General Eaton's statements, he 
anxiously desired a contest, which, he 
believed, would give a triumph to his 
arms, and terminate the hardships of his 
soldiers. Unremitting in exertion, and 
constantly vigilant, his precaution kept 




plans, and twice had failed and retired 
from the contest. 

The eighth of Januarxj, 1815, at length 
arrived. The day dawned; and the sig- 
nals, intended to produce concert in the 
enemy's movements, were descried. On 
the left, near the swamp, a sky-rocket was 
perceived rising in the air; and presently 
another ascended from the right, next the 
river. They were intended to announce 
that all was prepared and ready, to proceed 
and carry by storm a defense which again 
and again had foiled their utmost efforts. 
Instantly the charge was made, and with 
such rapidity, that the American soldiers 
at the outposts with difficulty fled in. 



BATTLE OF NEW ORLEANS. 



175 



The British batteries, which had been 
demolished on the first of tlie month, had 
been re-established during the preceding 
night, and heavy pieces of cannon mounted, 
to aid in their intended operations. These 
now opened, and showers of bombs and 
balls were poured upon our line, while the 
air was lighted with their congreve rock- 
ets. The two divisions, commanded by 
Sir Edward Pakenhani in person, and 
supported by Generals Keane and Gibbs, 
pressed forward; the right against the 
center of General Carroll's command, — 
the left against our redoubt on the levee. 
A thick fog, that obscured the morning, 
enabled them to approach within a short 
distance of our entrenchment, before they 
were discovered. They were now perceived 
advancing, with firm, quick, and steady 
pace, in column, with a front of sixty or 
seventy deep. The American troops, who 
had for some time been in readiness, and 
waiting their appearance, gave three deaf- 
ening cheers, and instantly the whole line 
was lighted with the blaze of their fire. 
A burst of artillery and small-arras, pour- 
ing with destructive aim upon them, 
mowed down their front, and arrested their 
advance. It was a perfect sheet of fire 
and death ! 

The havoc and horror before them — the 
terrible carnage which swept down their 
advancing ranks, — became at last too 
great to be withstood, and already were 
the British troops seen wavering in their 
determination, and receding from the con- 
flict. At this moment. Sir Edward Paken- 
ham, the distinguished commander-in-chief 
of the British forces, hastening to the 
front, endeavored to encourage and inspire 
them with renewed zeal. His example, 
liowever, was of short continuance, for, 
when near the crest of the glacis, he 
received a ball in the knee ; still continu- 
ing to lead on his men, another shot soon 
pierced his body, and he was carried in 
mortal agony from the field, in the arms of 
his aid-de-camp. Nearly at the same time, 
Major-General Gibbs, the second British 
officer in command, received a mortal 
wound when within a few yards of the 



lines, and was removed. The third in 
command also, Major-General Keane, 
while at the head of his troops near the 
glacis, was terribly wounded, and at once 
borne away. 

At this moment, General Lambert, — 
who had arrived from England but two 
days before, and found himself now the 
only surviving general, — was advancing at 
a small distance in the i-ear, with the 
reserve, and met the columns precipitately 
retreating, broken and confused. His 
efforts to stop them were unavailing, — 
onward thej' continued in their headlong 
retreat, until they reached a ditch, at the 
distance of four hundred j-ards, where a 
momentary safety being found, the pant- 
ing and fear-stricken fugitives were ral- 
lied, and halted. 

The field before them, over which they 
had so confidently advanced, was strewed 
with the dead and dying. Imminent 
danger faced them ; yet, urged and en- 
couraged by their officers, who feared 
their own disgrace involved in the failure, 
they again moved to the charge. They 
were already near enough to deplo}', and 
were endeavoring to do so ; but the same 
constant and unremitted resistance that 
caused their first retreat, continued j'et 
unabated. Our batteries had never ceased 
their fire ; their constant discharges of 
grape and canister, and the fatal aim of 
our musketry, mowed down the front of 
the columns as fast as they could be 
formed. Satisfied nothing could be done, 
and that certain destruction awaited all 
further attempts, they forsook the contest 
and the field in disorder, leaving it almost 
entirely covered with the dead and 
wounded. It was in vain their officers 
endeavored to animate them to further 
resistance, and equally vain to attempt 
coercion. The panic produced by the 
dreadful repulse they had experienced, — 
tlie sight of the field on which they had 
acted, covered with the ghastly bodies of 
their countrymen, — and the bitter fact 
that, with their most zealous exertions, 
thev had been unable to obtain the 
slightest advantage; all these circum- 



176 



BATTLE OF NEW ORLEANS. 



stances were well calculated to make even 
tlie most submissive soldier oppose the 




authority that would have controlled him. 
The decided advantage of the Americans 



gave to the conduct of the enemy more of 
tlie character of madness than of valor. 
As has already been stated, the 
fall of General Pakenham and 
the two next in command de- 
volved the leadership upon 
Lambert, the only general offi- 
cer left upon the field, and to 
whom had been consigned the 
charge of the reserve; and 
though, meeting the discom- 
fited troops in their flight, he 
endeavored to restore the for- 
tune of the day, the effort was 
B fruitless to the last degree. 
I On the ninth. General Lam- 
" bert determined to relinquish 
altogether so desperate and 
hopeless an enterprise, and 
mmediately commenced the 
3 necessary prejjarations, though 
< with the utmost secrecj'. It 
" was not until the night of the 
£ eighteenth, however, that the 
£ British camp was entirely 
y. evacuated. 

c The loss of the British in 
this fatal expedition was im- 
mense, the narrow field of strife 
between the opposing combat- 
ants being strewed with dead. 
So dreadful a carnage, consid- 
ering the length of time and 
the numbers engaged, has sel- 
dom been recorded. Two thou- 
sand, at the lowest estimate, 
pressed the earth, besides such 
of the wounded as were not 
able to escape. The loss of the 
Americans did not exceed seven 
killed, and six wounded. Mili- 
tary annals do not furnish a 
more extraordinary instance of 
ilisparity in the slain, between 
the victors and vanquished, 
'i'he entire British force en- 
gaged in this attempted reduc- 
tion of New Orleans, amounted 
to twelve thousand men ; the 
Americans numbered some six thousand, 
chiefly militia. 



BATTLE OF NEW OKLEANS, 



177 



Pakenliam, the distinguished leader of 
the British forces, was a brother-in-law of 
the great Duke of Wellington, had long 
been in high repute for military skill and 
personal bravery, and on this occasion 
numbered among his troops those who had 
won laurels of victory on the battle-fields 
of Europe. But, that he felt convinced of 
the magnitude and hazard of his present 
undertaking, as distinguished from all 
previous ones, is evident. When an officer 
leads his troops on a forlorn attempt, he 
not unfrequently places before them allure- 
ments stronger than either authority or 
duty. According to General Eaton's his- 
torical statements, a positive charge is 
made against General Pakenham, in this 
respect, — inducements having been held 
out by him, than which nothing more 
inviting could be offered to an infuriated 
soldiery. By this gallant but misguided 
general, there was promised to his soldiers 
— to excite their cupidity — the wealth of 
the city, as a recompense for their gal- 
lantry and desperation ; while, with brutal 
licentiousness, they were to revel in lawless 
indulgence, and triumph, uncontrolled, 
over female innocence. The history of 
Europe, since civilized warfare began, may 
be challenged to afford an instance of such 
gross and wanton outrage. The facts and 
circumstances which were developed at the 
time, left no doubt on the minds of the 
American officers, but that ' Boofij and 
Beauty,^ was the British watchword of the 
day. The information was obtained from 
prisoners, and confirmed by the books of 
two of their orderly sergeants taken in 
battle. 

Jackson was well aware, from the first, 
of the bold and reckless character of the 
enemy he had to deal with. With patri- 
otic indignation he declared: "The red- 
coats will find out wliom they have to deal 
with. 1 will smash them, so help me 
God ! " And the spirit with which he led 

12 



his men forward may be easily judged of 
from his emphatic exclamation — " Remem- 
ber, our watchword is ' Victory or Death !' 
We will enjoy our liberty, or perish in the 
last ditch ! " Never before did a general 
bring upon his troops such a spell of 
enthusiastic devotion to himself, and to 
the demands of the hour. So, too, in the 
flush of triuui[ih, he did not forget mercy 
and magnanimity. " General Jackson," 
says Blackwood's Magazine, of London, 
" behaved with humanity and generosity 
to all his prisoners, which did him as great 
honor as his conduct in the defense. We 
do not hesitate to call him a great man." 
Such was the encomium bestowed upon 
him by the pen of an enemy, — one of 
the most influential organs of British 
opinion. 

At this time, the person of General 
Jackson is described as being neither 
robust nor elegant. He was six feet and 
one inch high, remarkably straight and 
sjiare, and weighing about one hundred 
and fortj'-five pounds. His physique 
appeared to disqualify him for hardship; 
yet, accustomed to it from early life, few 
were capable of enduring fatigue to the 
same extent, or with less injury. His 
dark blue ej'es, with brows arched and 
slightly projecting, possessed a marked 
expression; but when from anj- cause 
excited, they sparkled with peculiar luster 
and penetration. In his manners he was 
pleasing — in his address commanding. 
His countenance, marked with firmness 
and decision, yet beamed with a strength 
and intelligence that struck at first sight. 
In his deportment, he was easy, affable, 
familiar, and accessible to all. 

The annunciation of the triumphant 
defense of New Orleans was hailed, in 
every section of the country, with accla- 
mations of delight, and won for Jackson 
the title of " the conqueror of the con- 
querors of Napoleon." 



XXII. 
THE EVER-MEMORABLE SEPTEMBER GALE.— 1815. 



Its Violence and Destructiveness Without a Parallel Since the Settlement of the Country. — Terroi 
Kxcited by Its Sudden aud Tumultuous Force. — Unprecedented Phenomena of Tempest, Deluge and 
Flood. — One Hour of Indescribable Havoc on the Land and Sea. — Premonitory Indications. — Heavy 
North-east Rains. — Sudden and Violent Ch.-inges of Wind. — Its Rapidity and Force Indescribable — 
Demolition of Hundreds of Buildings. — Orchard.s and Forests Instantly Uprooted. — Raging and 
Foaming of the Sea. — Its Spray Drives Like a Snow-storm over the Land. — Tremendous Rise in the 
Tides. — Irresistible Impetuosity of the Flood. — Several Feet of Water in the Streets. — Innumerable 
Fragments Fill the Air. — Flight for Safety to the Fields. — The Whole Coast Swarms with Wrecks. 
— Perils, Escapes, Fatalities. — Peculiar Meteorological Facts. — Bright Skies in the Midst of the Tem- 
pest. — Suffocating Current of Hot Air. — Sea Fowls in the Depths of the Interior. — Effect Upon 
Lands, Crops, and Wells. — All New England Desolated. — Comparison with Other Galss. 



—" still nverh'll 
The minclinir tempest wears its doom, and stih 
The deluiie di'epeon; till the flelda around 
Lie sunk and flatted in the sordid wave. 

All that the winds had spared, 
In fine wild moment ruined." 




lUDGING from all the information, historical 
and traditional, relating to the great American 
gales during the last hundred years, it would 
appear that the one which occurred in New 
England, on the 23d of September, 1815, was 
and is still without a parallel, in its extraordi- 
nary characteristics of violence and destruc- 
tiveness. In the history of the country, 
dating back to its earliest annals, there is no 
account of any gale or hurricane equaling 
this, in its various phenomena of suddenness, 
severity and power. As distinguishing it, 
therefore, above all others of its class, this 
has ever since been called the Great Septem- 
ber Gale. 

The observations of the character, course 
and effects of this wonderful storm, made by 
Professor Farrar and others, for the latitude 
of Boston, show that it was there preceded by 
rain, which continued to fall for about twenty-four hours with a moderate wind 
from the north-east. Early in the morning of the twenty-third, the wind shifted 
to the east, and began to blow in gusts accompanied with showers. It continued 



UESTltUi:! IO.\ liV -illK (iltEAT (iALE ASit FLOOD. 



THE EVER-MEMOEABLE GALE. 



179 



to change toward the south and to increase 
in violence while the rain abated. Be- 
tween nine and ten o'clock in the fore- 
noon, it began to excite alarm. Chimneys 
and trees were blown over both to the 
west and north ; but shingles and slates, 
that were torn from the roofs of buildings, 
were carried to the greatest distance in the 
direction of about three points west of 
north. 

Between half-past ten and half-past 
eleven o'clock, the greatest destruction 
took place. The rain ceased about the 
time the wind shifted from south-east to 
south ; a clear sktj ivas visible in many 
places duringi the utmost violeiice of the 
tempest, and clouds were seen flying with 
great rapidity in the direction of the wind. 
The air had an unusual appearance. It 
was considerably darkened by the exces- 
sive agitation, and filled with the leaves 
of trees and other light substances, which 
were raised to a great height and whirled 
about in eddies, instead of being driven 
directly forward as in a common storm. 
The rivers raged and foamed like the sea in 
a storm, and the spray was raised to the 
height of sixty or one hundred feet in the 
form of thin white clouds, which were 
drifted along in a kind of wave form, like 
snow in a violent snow-storm. Travelers 
were frequently driven back by the force 
of the wind, and were obliged to screen 
themselves behind fences and trees or to 
advance obliquely. It was impossible for 
even the stoutest man to stand firm in a 
place exposed to the full force of the wind. 
The pressure of the wind was like that 
of a rapid current of water; pedestrians 
could with great difficulty hear each other 
speak at the distance of two or three 
yards ; and they moved about almost as 
awkwardly as if attempting to wade in a 
strong tide. 

In Boston harbor, the sea had risen 
unusually high, two hours before the calen- 
dar time of high water. But the direction 
of the wind at this time tended to coun- 
teract the tide, and thus secured the port 
from that awful calamity which threatened 
it. Great losses, however, were sustained 



from the wind alone ; many buildings 
were blown down, great numbers were 
unroofed or otherwise injured, and few 
entirely escaped. The most calamitous 
destruction befell the trees, — orchards and 
forests exhibiting a scene of desolation, 
the like of which had never before been 
witnessed in America. The roads in many 
places were rendered impassable, not only 
through woods, but in the more cultivated 
towns, where they happened to be lined 
with trees ; and the streets in Boston and 
neighboring towns were strewed with the 
ruins of innumerable gardens and fruit- 
yards. A considerable proportion of the 
large and beautiful trees in Boston mall, 
and in other public walks, some of which 
trees measured from eight to twelve feet 
in circumference, were torn up by the 
roots and prostrated. Apple trees, in 
especial, being separated at a considerable 
distance from each other, were overturned 
in great numbers ; no less than Jive thoiu- 
sand were thus destroyed in the town of 
Dorchester alone. In this same town, 
also, seventeen houses were unroofed, sixty 
chimneys blown over, and about forty 
barns demolished. 

Ehode Island felt the full force of this 
remarkable gale, Providence suffering to 
the amount of millions of dollars, accom- 
panied with a fearful loss of life, as in 
other places. This was owing to the wind 
blowing directlj' up the river on which the 
place is built, unbroken by the cape or 
Long Island, and in sweeping over such 
an extent of water it accumulated a dread- 
ful and most destructive tide, so that 
vessels were actualbj driven over the 
wharves and through the streets. Early 
in the morning, the wind was north-east, 
but, at about eight, it shifted to south-east, 
and soon began to blow violently, continu- 
ing to increase until ten, when it became 
a hurricane. All was now confusion and 
dismay in the exposed region. The tide, 
impelled by the tempest, overflowed the 
wharves ; vessels, broken from their moor- 
ings in the stream, and their fastenings at 
the wharves, were seen driving with dread- 
ful impetuosity towards the bridge, which 



180 



THE EVEE-MEMORABLE GALE. 



tiiey swept away, without a moment's 
check to theii- jirogress, and jjassed on to 
the head of the basin, wliere tliey drove 
high up tlie bank. Every exertion to 
jirotect property, was rendered futile by 
the violence of the wind, the rapid rise of 
the water, and the falling of trees ; indeed, 
these, with the crashing of chimneys, 
tumbling upon the houses and descending 
into the streets, together with tiles and 
railings from the tops of buildings, and 
many other species of dangerous missile 
flying through the air, rendered it perilous 
to ajjpear in the streets. All considera- 
tion of property, however, was soon for- 
gotten in the more important one of self- 
preservation. Tlie tempest still raged 



elements, were seen removing the panic- 
stricken inmates ; and on the east side, an 
awful torrent rolled through the main 
street, in depth nearly to a man's waist, 
and by which boats, masts, bales of cotton, 
and immense quantities of property uf 
every description, were driven along with 
resistless force. It was an au-ful and ter- 
rific scene. Every store below, on the 
east side, was either carried away or com- 
pletely shattered ; and every building on 
the opposite side and on the wharves, were 
swept from their foundations — so that all 
the space, where, an hour or two before, 
were so many valuable wharves and stores 
crowded with shiispiug and merchandise, 
was now one wide waste of tumultuous 




with increasing violence ; the flood was 
overwhelming the lower parts of the town ; 
stores and dwelling-houses were tottering 
on their foundations, and then, plunging 
into the deluge, blended their shattered 
remains with the wrecks of vessels, — the 
whole passing, with irresistible impetuos- 
ity, in full view, on the current to the head 
of the cove, to join the already accumu- 
lated mass of similar wrecks. 

By this time, the water on the west side 
of the river had risen nearly to the tops of 
the lower windows of the houses, and boats 
and scows, struggling with the maddened 



water. Only two small vessels, of all that 
were in the harbor, succeeded in riding 
out the gale, all the rest having drifted 
ashore, or been carried high up on the 
wharves. It was such a scene of wide- 
spread ruin and desolation, as beggars all 
description — vessels of all kinds and in 
every position, blended promiscuously, 
with carriages, lumber, wrecks of build- 
ings of every variety, furniture, and tens 
of thousands of fragments from far and 
near, all told the story of universal havoc 
and destruction. Women and children were 
saved in boats from chamber-windous. 



THE EVER-MEMORABLE GALE. 



181 



One distressing and peculiar scene, 
wliich took place among the shipping, will 
serve as a description of a thousand other 
cases which occurred during the storm. A 
brig, loaded and read_v for sea, with live- 
stock, drove against the end of a wharf, 
and her head rested on it ; here she hung, 
appearing every moment as if she would 
ui)set, and plunge her crew into the raging 
flood. The men were seen clinging to her, 
awaiting their fate, as no soul could ven- 
ture to their succor, — the whole distance 
between the vessel and the houses being 
filled with roofs and parts of stores tum- 
bling with the violence of the tempest. 
Expecting every moment to be precipitated 
into the torrent, the}' determined at last 
upon the final but perilous attempt to quit 
the vessel and gain the houses. Strug- 
gling with the violence of the gale, and 
with the rolling and bounding materials, 
in endeavoring to get a foothold, thej' at 
last reached the rear of the houses, where 
some were taken into the second story, 
and others, unable to be reached, succeeded 
in braving the waves until they swam to a 
place of safetj'. 

But it would be absolutely impossible to 
givs an extended detail of the disastrous 
scenes pertaining to each separate locality, 
although some of the incidents and items 
of the gale's destructive effects deserve to 
be cited for their very marvelousness. 
Mention has already been made of the 
devastation in Dorchester, near Boston, — 
unparalleled since its settlement, — result- 
ing in seventeen houses being unroofed, 
sixty cliinineys ^^^ostrated, forty bams 
demolished, a7id more than five thousand 
trees destroyed. The number of buildings, 
large and small, destroyed in Providence, 
luas estimated at five hundred, and about 
fifty vessels wrecked. In many instances, 
majestic oaks, which had braved the tem- 
pests an hundred years or more, were 
thrown down, or twisted into shreds ; and 
in Danvers, Mass., the venerable jJear tree, 
imported and transjjlanted by Governor 
Endicott, was made terrible havoc with. 
In Chelsea, not far from Danvers, the 
great Elm tree, seventeen feet in girth, 



and which had a portico built upon its 
limbs, capable of holding thirty persons, 
was among the wrecked. In the little 
town of Acton, about twenty miles from 
Boston, the damage amounted to forty 
thousand dollars. At Stonington, Conn., 
the tide rose seventeen feet higher than 
■usual, all the vessels going ashore or sink- 
ing, and all the wharves and manj' build- 
ings being destroyed. The fate of one 
citizen of this town was almost as disas- 
trous as that of Job of yore : His house, 
ropewalk, blacksmith's shop, and other 
buildings, with all their contents, were 
swept away, and, melancholy to relate, his 
wife, daughter, wife's mother, and a 
young lady visitor, all perished in the 
billows. All along the New England 
coast, and as far as New York, the damage 
done to the shipping was immense, hun- 
dreds of vessels with their cargoes being 
wrecked ; and almost every seaport as well 
as inland town suffering to some degree, 
— in many instances, almost irreparable, in 
kind and extent. Innumerable churches 
were wholly or partially ruined, and the 
number of cattle killed was very great. 
The gale was also severely felt by 
vessels off Cape Hatteras, in the gulf 
stream, off the capes of Delaware, at Sandy 
Hook, Nantucket Shoals, Cape Ann, Cape 
Henlopen, etc. 

The course of the gale, as ascertained 
from data procured from various points, 
furnishes facts of peculiar meteorological 
interest. Thus, in Philadelphia, there 
was, during most of the night of the 
twenty-second, a gale from the north-east, 
with heavy rain. Early the next day, the 
wind veered to the north-west, the gale 
continuing, with torrents of rain, for sev- 
eral Lours. Between eight and nine 
o'clock, the wind slackened, the rain 
ceased, and clouds broke away in the west 
and south. About noon, the weather was 
clear and mild, with a gentle westerly 
breeze. During the greater part of the 
afternoon, the sun was obscured with fly- 
ing clouds from the west and north-west. 

In New York, a violent north-east storm 
of wind and rain commenced at night, on 



182 



THE EVEE-MEMORABLE GALE. 



the twenty-first ; about two o'clock, the 
wind suddenly shifted to the north and 
north-west, Wowing with increased vio- 
lence. On the twenty-second, there was a 
gale all day, from the north-east and east, 
with heavy and incessant rain. The gale 
increased in the evening, continuing until 
four o'clock the next afternoon, though 
most violent at nine o'clock the same fore- 
noon, the wind being north to north-west. 

At New London, Connecticut, the storm 
commenced on Friday, the twenty-second, 
a heavy rain falling during that day and 
night, the wind north-east. Next morn- 
ing, the twentj'-third, the wind became 
very violent, and soon after almost a liur- 
ricane. The tide, which commenced flood 
about six o'clock, bad, by ten, risen three 
or four feet higher than was ever known 
before. The rise was so rapid, too, that 
some of the dwellings were deluged before 
the inhabitants knew of their danger, and 
not more than thirty minutes elajjsed after 
they thus realized their peril, before the 
waves rose four to six feet in the streets ! 
Stores were soon seen falling before the 
terrible power of the tempest, buildings 
were unroofed, giant trees fell. But this 
a^iul scene of destruction was short. 
Soon after eleven o'clock, the wind shifted 
to the westward and abated ; the sea 
returned with the velocity it came in, 
though it should have run flood until 
twelve ; and the storm ceased. The show- 
ers which fell over the city and neighbor- 
hood were of salt water ; and the leaves of 
the tender fruit-trees and shrubs and of 
many forest trees, without frost, shrunk in 
a few hours after the gale as though they 
had been scorched. Brooks and wells in 
the town and neighborhood became brack- 
ish ; and during the strength of the wind, 
in the eddies, the air was extremely hot 
and suffocating. 

Far into the interior, the tempest swept 
and raged with unparalleled furj'. Early 
on Saturday morning, the wind became 
very violent, and torrents of rain descended, 
continuing with but short intermissions 
until about half-past ten in the forenoon ; 
at this time, the rain abated, and the wind, 



suddenly shifting to the south-east, blew a 
hurricane, the terrible devastation of which 
covered a column or area of sixty miles iii 
tvidth. A suffocating current of air as, 
from a hot bath, accompanied the middle 
stage of the tempest. Flocks of gulls, 
from the far-off ocean, were seen after the 
storm in the Worcester meadows, and, as 
evening apjaroached, they flew toward the 
sea. 

Along the seaboard, the effect of the 
tide upon the soil and its productions was 
very marked. Grass was entirely killed. 
There was not a green blade to be seen, in 
any place, over which the flood had passed. 
In a few spots, near running springs, some 
new shoots appeared in the course of the 
autumn ; but on uplands, none grew until 
another season, and then it was not the 
same kind of grass which grew there 
before, excepting in a very few instances. 
Several cedar-swamps were filled with sea 
water, which. Laving no outlet, soaked 
into the ground. The trees in these 
swamps perished forthwith, the leaves 
withering and falling off in a very short 
time. In the trees cut from these swamps 
during the winter following the storm, the 
sap-wood had turned nearly black ; and 
there was scarcely an instance in which a 
cedar-tree survived the effect of the flood. 
Pine and oak trees suffered a similar fate, 
excepting a very few, which stood near 
the shore, — these latter, perhaps, having 
grown accustomed to the influence of salt 
water, and could better endure the ordeal, 
— though a very great proportion even of 
these perished in a shotft time. Most of 
the shrubs and bushes, over which the tide 
passed, perished similarly. It ^\-as ob- 
served, however, that one or two species 
of laurel, and the common bayberry, were 
but little if at all injured, and some of 
the swamp whortleberry-bushes survived. 
Apple trees were, generallj', on such high 
ground, that the tide did not reach them ; 
only a few were surrounded bj' the water, 
and none of them were so situated that the 
water could remain about them for any 
length of time. Thej' were, nevertheless, 
as much exjjosed as man^" of the cedars 



THE EVER-MEMORABLE GALE. 



18^ 



•which died ; but the apple trees continued 
to live, though considerably stinted in 
their growth. With these exceptions, the 
destruction of vegetable life in localities of 
this exposure, was very general, if not 
universal. 

Wherever the cultivated lands were in 
low places near the shore, they were of 
course overflowed. In fields where Indian 
corn was standing, the roots were, in most 
cases, torn out of the ground ; and where 
this did not take place, the stalks were 
wrenched and twisted, and the spikes 
broken off. The corn, where it had pre- 
viously grown hard or ripe, was fit for 
food, but where the grain had not already 
hardened, it failed to do so, and either per- 
ished in the husk, or very soon after it 
was taken out. It was a common remark, 
that no part of the plant could be dried by 
any means, and therefore by far the 
greater part of the harvest was lost, not 
being yet ripe. Potatoes, and other 
vegetable roots, if left in the ground, 
perished ; but, where they had ripened, 
and were taken up within a few days 
after the flood, and well dried, they were 
good. 



which the tide water did not run, were so 
infected with the taste and qualities of sea 
water, as to be totally unfit for domestic 
purposes. The inhabitants were obliged 
therefore to transport this necessar3' article 
for household uses, from a great distance; 
and travelers who needed it were glad to 
receive it in a measure of the smallest 
capacity. In some wells near the shore, 
the water formerly rose and fell with the 
tide, still remaining fresh ; but the severe 
and peculiar discipline of this flood so 
changed their habit, that the water in 
them became of a fixed height, and saltish. 
Wlien the vast and tremendous tide was 
sweeping over the land, the spray arising 
from it was very great, over a wide surface 
of country, extending to the furthermost 
of the interior of the northern states. It 
is spoken of as having resembled a driving 
snoic-storm, through which objects could 
be discerned only at short distances. In 
the more northerly regions, it was observed, 
immediately after the storm, that a singu- 
lar effect had been produced upon the 
leaves of the trees by the spray ; their 
vitality was destroyed, and they exhibited 
an appearance similar to that which 




HORRORS OF THE WHIRLWIND THROCGHOUT NEW ENGLAND. 



Fresh water, along the seaboard, was, 
for a long time, a rarity of price, the wells 
having been generally overflown and left 
full of sea water. Watering-places for 
cattle suffered a similar fate ; and so 
extensive was the influence of the flood, 
that many wells, pools and streams, into 



accompanies frost, except that they 
retained more of their original color, and 
in some instances they assumed a dark 
red hue, as if they had been well scorched. 
But in other sections along the shore, the 
leaves di<l not exhibit this peculiar dis- 
coloration ; those which were destroyed by 



184 



THE EVEE-MEMORABLE GALE. 



the flood, bore every mark of death, but 
not of having been burnt, — neither was 
there any thin coating of salt on the win- 
dows in these regions, as on those in the 
neighborhood of Boston and elsewhere. 

In multitudes of instances, the saltness 
of the wells and watering-places continued 
unabated for six months, or until the first 
week of the following March. The winter 
liad been severe, and the ground frozen 
very deep until the middle of February, 
when there were several weeks of moderate 
weather, with soft rains, which dissolved 
the snows and opened the ground ; shortly 
after which, it was discovered that several 
of the wells and ponds were frosh. As 
the water in these had been tasted but a 
few days previously and was found still to 
retain its disagreeableness, the freshness 
must have taken place suddenly. After 
successive spells of dry weather, these 
wells grew salt again, but not to the same 
degree as before; and, on the other hand, 
they would be fresh, after heavy rains, and 
then become salt again after dry weather, 
the degree of saltness diminishing from 
time to time. This peculiarity continued 
for several j'ears, in some localities, being, 
of course, a great inconvenience to man 
and beast. 

The center or the limits of this great 
and memorable tempest, scientific investi- 
gators were unable to determine. It was 
very violent at places separated by a con- 
siderable interval from each other; while 
the intermediate region suffered much less. 
Its course through forests was, in some 
instances, marked almost as definitely, as 
where the trees have been newly cut down 
jjr a road. In these cases, it apj^ears to 
have been a moving vortex, and not the 
rushing forward of the great body of the 
atmosphere. There seems to have been 
no part of the coast of New England which 
escaped its fury, though in Vermont and 
the western parts of New Hampshire its 
severity was much less ; yet still further 
west, on the St. Lawrence, the gale was so 
great as to render it extremely dangerous 
to be upon the river. And what is still 
more remarkable, the storm began to grow 



violent at this jslace about the same time 
that it commenced near the Atlantic, and 
subsided about the same time. 

As to the direction of the wind, at the 
several places where the storm prevailed, 
Professor Farrar's account states, that, on 
the twenty-second, the wind was pretty 
generally from the north-east. The stori> 
commenced to the leeward; but when tho 
wind shifted from north-east to east and 
south, along the coast of New England, it 
veered round in the opposite direction at 
New York, and at an earlier period. It 
reached its greatest height at this latter 
place about nine o'clock on the morning of 
the twenty-third, when it was from the 
north-west ; whereas, at Boston, it became 
most violent and devastating about two 
hours later, and blew from the opposite 
quarter of the heavens. At Montreal, the 
direction of the wind was the same as at 
New York, but did not attain its greatest 
height so soon b}' several hours. The 
barometer descended very fast during the 
morning of the twenty-third, and, when 
the wind was highest, had fallen about 
half an inch. It began to rise as the wind 
abated, and recovered its former elevation 
by the time the air was restored to its 
usual tranquillity. 

According to the investigations made 
by others, and the observations recorded 
at the time, in different places, the follow- 
ing facts are believed to be established, 
namely : That the hurricane commenced 
in the "West Indies, and moved northward 
at the rate of twelve or fifteen miles an 
hour. Its course from St. Barts was about 
west-north-west to Turks Island, and 
thence to Boston — nearly on the same 
meridian — it was a curve convex to the 
west. Previous to the arrival of the hur- 
ricane in New England, a north-east storm 
had prevailed along the Atlantic coast for 
more than twenty-four hours. For some 
hours previous to the hurricane, there was 
a great and rapid condensation of vapor, 
producing a heavy fall of rain in the line 
of the north-east storm. The hurricane, 
or violent blow, was mostly from the south- 
east, blowing into and at right angles to 



THE EVEE-MEMORABLE GALE. 



185 



the north-east storm, at its southern ter- 
mination. As the south-east wind ap- 
proached the line of the north-east storm, 
it was deflected into an east wind. The 
general form of tlie hurricane, in and about 
i^'ew England, was that of an eccentric 
ellipse, with its longest diameter north- 
east and south-west ; wind blowing north- 
east on the north-west side ; north-north- 
west, and west-north-west, at its south 
end; south-east on its south-east side, 
curving into an oast wind at its junc- 
tion with the north-east current ; wind 
blowing from south at the easternmost 
part of the hurricane. The whole body 
of the hurricane, in the form thus 
described, moved to the north nearly on 
the meridian. 

It is universally- admitted, that there is 
DO account of a storm or gale in all respects 
so remarkable in its phenomena as this, to 
be found in the history of the United 
States. Other hurricanes there have been, 
laying waste whatever came in their way, 
tut they have been comparatively limited 
in their extent and destructiveness. 
Morton, in his Kew England Memorial, 
gives a description of the violent tempest 
that took place soon after the first settle- 
ment at Plymouth. It began on the 
morning of August fifteenth, 1635, very 
suddenly, "blew down houses, uncovered 
divers others, divers vessels were lost at 
sea; it caused the sea to swell in some 
places so that it arose to twenty foot right 
up and down, and made many Indians to 
climb into trees for their safety; blew 
down many hundred thousands of trees," 
etc. The tremendous gales of 1723, 1804, 
1818, 1821, 1836, 1841, 1851, 1859, 
1860, 1869, and some others, will long 



be remembered in certain localities, for 
their severity and the loss of life 
and property, on land and sea, which 
attended them ; but neither the memorij 
of man, nor the annals of the country, 
from its first settlement doxvn to the 
present time, furnish any parallel tn 
the jjeculiar character of the great yah' 
of September, 1815. 

Of the storms and floods which occurred 
during the last half of the century, those 
of September and October, 1869, were per- 
haps the most memorable. The devasta- 
tion by the latter embraced the whole 
countrj' between the Nova Scotia coast and 
the Mississippi, and from the north limits 
of the Canadas to the cotton states. The 
rain fell in torrents for about forty consec- 
utive hours, the dense clouds descending 
in vast sheets, and a moaning wind accom- 
panying the powerful outpouring. A 
stronger storm was beyond conception. In 
some places, the rain-gauge showed that 
four inches of rain fell in the course of 
twenty-nine hours, and, during the suc- 
ceeding six hours, 3.34 inches additional, 
— the total fall of water during the storm, 
over a vast region of country, reaching the 
enormous amount of 8.05 inches. The 
resulting floods on all the streams were 
beyond any ever recorded. The storm was 
so sudden and unexpected, that no pre- 
cautions could have been taken, and none 
were. Railroads, telegraph wires, streets, 
bridges, dams, manufactories, houses, lands, 
crops, were utterly or partially ruined, 
over a wide extent of countrj' ; and such 
an embargo on travel was never known 
before. The pecuniary losses reached 
millions of dollars, and many lives were 
lost. 



XXIII. 

VISIT OF LAFAYETTE TO AMERICA, AS THE GUEST 
OF THE REPUBLIC— 1824. 



His Tour of Fire Thousand Miles Through the Twenty-Four States.— A National Ovation on the 
Grandest Scale. — Cities, States, Legislatures and Governors, Vie in Their Demonstrations of Respect. 
— The Venerable Patriot Enters tlie Tomb and Stands Beside the Remains of His Great Departed 
Friend, Washing'on — Noble Qualities of the Marquis. — A Favorite cf Louis XVI. — Hears 
of the Battle of Bunker Hill. — Pleads the Cause of the Americans. — Resolves to Join Their 
Army. — Freely Consecrates His Vast Wealth. — Equips a Vessel and Embarks. — Introduced to 
General Washington- — Admir.ition of Him by the Chieftain. — One of Washington's Military 
Family. — A MajorGeneral in His Nineteenth Year. — Heroic Fidelity During the War. — Subse- 
quent Vicissitudes in France. — America's Heart-Felt Sympathy. — He Leaves Havre for New York. — 

Enthusiasm Excit- 



ed by His Pres- 
ence. — Incidents, 
Interviews, Fetes. 
— Greetings with 
Old Comrades. — 
— Memories, Joys, 
and Tears — De- 
parts in the United 
States Ship Lafay- 
ette.— His Death 
in 1834.— National 
Grief. 




. i-Jt .... .. 



"FortunRte.fortunatenitn I 
Heaven new tit to otdaiD that 
the elfctric apark of lioertv 
Id be conducted. througti 
yette. Iiom the New 
d to the Old."— Danisl 

WitUSIEB. 



WO names are most intimately and inflis.solubly associated witti 
J^f/y tlie dramatic train of military events which led to the establish- 
ment of the United States as a nation and government, namely, 
tliose of Washington and Lafayette. No two names are, 
down to the present day, more fresh in the love and gratitude of the American people, 
and, until time shall be no more, a test of the fidelity with which that people hold to 
the principles of republican wisdom and virtue that gave them birth, will be their 
admiration of the names of those patriots and heroes. To understand, therefore, 
the significance of that spontaneous otitburst of popular enthusiasm which greeted 
Lafayette on his visit to America in 1824, and which made that year one of the mosi 



VISIT OF LAFAYETTE TO AMERICA. 



18< 



memorable in the nation's history, it will 
only be necessary to glance at the services, 
military and civil, rendered us by this 
large-hearted patriot, during the opening 
years of our national existence. Those 
services and tliat reception form, indeed, a 
national romance. 

When only thirteen years of age, Lafay- 
ette was left an orphan, and in full posses- 
sion of valuable estates, and master of his 
own aifairs. Being for a time at the col- 
lege in Paris, his associations brought him 
into notice at the court of King Louis, and 
he became quite a favorite with that mon- 
arch. He was appointed one of the 
queen's pages, and through her agency 
received a commission at the early age of 
fifteen. He formed an early attachment 
to a daughter of the noble family of 
Noailles, with whom he was united in 
marriage at the age of sixteen. Adopting 
the profession of a soldier, Lafayette, at 
nineteen, was stationed, as captain of dra- 
goons, at Metz, one of the garrisoned 
towns of France. Here, in 1776, Lafay- 
ette's attention was directed to the conflict 
of liberty in America — the hostilities 
between Britain and her colonies ; and 
while in conversation with the Duke of 
Gloucester, brother to George the Third, of 
England, he elicited facts that led him to 
see the whole merits of the case. The 
battle of Bunker Hill and the Declaration 
of Independence fired his heart ! Before 
rising from the dinner-table at which this 
interview occurred, Lafayette had resolved 
to leave his home, and offer himself and 
his services to the rising republic, whose 
cause he regarded as just and noble. From 
that hour he could think of nothing but 
this chivalrous enterprise, though aware 
that it would cut him off from the favor 
of that brilliant court-circle in which he 
shone so conspicuously, and that he would 
also have to tear himself away from his 
young, beautiful, and fondly attached 
wife, who alone, among all his associates, 
approved of his intention. 

Proceeding to Paris, he confided his 
scheme to two young friends. Count Segur 
and Viscount Noailles, and proposed that 



they should join him. They entered with 
enthusiasm into his views, but, owing to 
obstacles put in their way through family 
interference, they were prevented from 
following out their course, but faithfully 
kept their comrade's secret. He next 
explained his intention to Count Broglie, 
who advised him to abandon it at once as 
in the highest degree chimerical and haz- 
ardous. The count assured him that his 
confidence was not misplaced; but, said 
he— 

" I have seen your uncle die in the wars 
of Italy, I witnessed your father's death at 
the battle of Minden, and I will not be 
accessory to the ruin of the only remaining 
branch of the family." 

But, so far from being disheartened by 
the unpromising reception which Lafay- 
ette's plan met with from those to whom 
he made known his purposes, his ardor 
was rather increased in the pursuit of his 
object. " My zeal and love of liberty," 
said he, " have perhaps been hitherto the 
prevailing motives ; but now I see a 
chance for usefulness, which I had not 
anticipated. I have money ; I will pur- 
chase a ship, which shall convey to Amer- 
ica myself, my companions, and the freight 
for congress." All this, as the sequel will 
show, he nobly and self-sacrificingly car- 
ried out. 

This design was now made known by 
Lafayette to Messrs. Franklin, Lee, and 
Deane, the American commissioners at 
Paris ; and to a proposal so disinterested 
and generous they could, of course, make 
no objection, — could only admire, indeed, 
the spirit which actuated it ; and he hast- 
ened immediately to put it into execution. 
After surmounting the many difficulties 
which from time to time interrupted the 
progress of his plans, he at last set sail, 
the Baron de Kalb and eleven other offi- 
cers of various ranks, in pursuit of em- 
ployment in the American army, consti- 
tuting his retinue. In due time they 
approached the shore near Georgetown, 
South Carolina, having fortunately escaped 
two British cruisers, and soon proceeded 
to Charleston harbor, where a magnificent 



188 



VISIT OF LAFAYETTE TO AMERICA. 



reception vias given them. The vessel 
was subsequently loaded with rice for the 
French market, but it foundered in going 
out of the harbor, and both the vessel and 
the cargo became a total loss. 

But Lafayette had not j-et reached his 
destination. As soon, however, as all 
things were in readiness, the party left 
Charleston and traveled to Philadelphia, 
where congress was then sitting. On 
arriving there, he jjut his letters into the 
hands of Mr. Lovell, chairman of the com- 
mittee on foreign affairs. He called the 
next day at the hall of congress, and Mr. 
Lovell came out to him and said, that so 
many foreigners had offered themselves for 
employment, that congress was embar- 
rassed with their application, and he was 
sorry to inform liira there was very little 
hope of his success. Lafaj-ette suspected 
tliat his papers liad not been read, and he 




immediately sat down and wrote a note to 
the president of congress, in which he 
desired to be permitted to serve in the 
American army on two conditions : first, 
that he should receive no pay ; second, 
that he should act as a volunteer. These 
terms were so different from those de- 
manded by other foreigners, and presented 
so few obstacles on the ground of any 
interference with American officers, that 
they were at once accepted. His rank, 



zeal, perseverance, and disinterestedness, 
overcame every objection, and he was 
appointed a major-general in the American 
army before he had reached the age of 
twentj'. 

But he was yet to stand before the face 
of the great American chieftain. Wash- 
ington was at head-quarters when Lafay- 
ette reached Philadelphia, but, being daily 
expected in the city, the young general 
concluded to wait his arrival, instead of 
presenting himself at camp. The intro- 
duction of the youthful stranger to the 
man on whom his career depended was, 
however, delayed only a few days. It 
took pl.ace in a manner peculiarly marked 
with the circumspection of Washington, 
at a dinner-part}', where Lafa^'ette was 
one among several guests of consideration. 
Washington was not uninformed of the 
circumstances connected with Lafayette's 
arrival in this country ; and it may well 
be supposed that the eye of the father of 
his country was not idle during the re- 
past. But that searching glance, before 
which pretense or fraud never stood 
undetected, was completely satisfied. 
When they were about to separate, 
Washington took Lafayette aside, spoke 
to him with kindness, complimented 
him upon the noble sjjirit he had shown 
and the sacrifices he had made in favor 
of the American cause, and then told 
him that he should be pleased if he 
would make the quarters of the com- 
mander-in-chief his home, establish him- 
self there whenever he thought proper, 
and consider himself at all times as one 
of his familj', — adding, in a tone of pleas- 
antry-, that he could not jiromise him the 
luxuries of a court, or even the con- 
veniences which his former habits might 
have rendered essential to his comfort, but, 
since he had become an American soldier 
he would doubtless contrive to accommo- 
date himself to the customs, manners and 
privations of a republican army. Such 
was the reception given to Lafayette, by 
the most sagacious and observant of men ; 
and the personal acquaintance, thus com- 
menced, ripened into an intimacy, a con- 



VISIT OF LAFAYETTE TO AMEEICA. 



189 



fidence, and an affection witliout bounds, 
and never for one moment interrupted. If 
there lived a man whom Washington 
loved and admired, it was Lafayette. 

Gloriously did Lafayette fulfill, in his 
military career, the high hopes which 
swelled the hearts of American patriots, in 
the heroic courage which he displayed at 
Brandywine, where he received a ball in 
his leg ; his success in Jersey, before he 
had recovered from his wounds, in a battle 
where he commanded militia against Brit- 
ish grenadiers; in the brilliant retreat, 
by which he eluded a combined maneuver 
of the whole British force ; by his great 
services in the enterprise against Rhode 
Island, and his successful movements 
against Cornwallis ; — all these proofs of 
his patriotism and military skill, together 
with his warm and unsullied friendship 
for Washington, through all the varying 
fortunes of war, endeared him forever to 
every American. 

After the fall of Cornwallis, Lafaj'ette 
sailed for France, but revisited America 
in 1784. He was received with enthusi- 
asm wherever he went. Returning to 
France, he found himself the object of 
immense popularity, and took his seat with 
the notables, convoked in 1787. In 1789, 
he boldly proposed, in the national convo- 
cation, the Declaration of Eights, which 
he had brought from the free soil of Amer- 
ica, as the preliminary of a constitution. 
Proclamation of this world-renowned doc- 
ument was made July 22, audit furnished 
the French people with the metaphysical 
reasons for the "sacred right of insurrec- 
tion." Meanwhile the Bastile had been 
taken, July 14, the national guard organ- 
ized, and Lafayette appointed to the com- 
mand. In this capacity he rode a white 
charger, and shone the impersonation of 
chivalry, and twice the roj-al family owed 
their preservation to his address and cour- 
age. When the popular enthusiasm lulled, 
he returned to his native fields ; the 
national guard, on his retirement, present- 
ing him with a bust of Washington, and 
a Bword forged from the bolts of the Bas- 
tile. Subsequently, having denounced the 



bloodthirsty Jacobins, he was burnetl in 
effigy by the sans-culottes of Paris, and, 
fleeing from the guillotine which there 
awaited him, he finally fell into the hands 
of the Austrians, and was by them sub- 
jected to a long and cruel imprisonment in 
the fortress at Olmutz. His release, so 
earnestly but unsuccessfully solicited by 
Washington, was peremptorily demanded 
by Napoleon, and obtained, in September, 
1797. In the jear 1818, he became a 
member of the chamber of deputies, and, 
resuming his career as an advocate of con- 
stitutional principles, succeeded at last in 
elevating Louis Philippe to the throne of 
France. 

By this time, Lafaj^ette had grown old 
in the services he had rendered to America 
and France. Though his jears were now 
nearly three score and ten, he could not 
think of meeting death until he h.ad once 
more seen that land of liberty across the 
wide Atlantic, which was as dear to him as 
his native country. In its infancy, and 
for its freedom, he had, fifty years ago, 
contributed his wealth and shed his blood, 
sharing the bosom confidence of the great 
Washington as did no other human being. 
That struggling little republic had now 
become a giant nation ; the thirteen states 
constituting the original galaxy, had be- 
come almost double that number, and vast 
as the empires of antiquity in territor3^ 
Eememhering his magnificent services, in 
1824 the congress of the United States 
voted unanimously^ a resolution requesting 
President Monroe to invite Lafayette to 
visit the United States, as the nation's 
guest, — an honor never before accorded a 
foreign nobleman, — and tendering a ship 
of the line for his conveyance. This invi- 
tation was extended to the great French 
patriot in President Monroe's most happy 
manner, and w'as duly accepted, though 
the offer of a war-ship was declined. 

On the twelfth of July, 1824, Lafayette, 
accompanied by his son, George Washing- 
ton Lafayette, and his secretary, M. Levas- 
seur, sailed from Havre for America. He 
arrived in Xew York, August fifteenth, 
and landed on Staten Island. One of the 



190 



VISIT OF LAFAYETTE TO AMERICA. 



first to greet him was Joseph Bonaparte, 
brother of the great Napoleon. Joseph 
then resided at Bordentown, New Jersey ; 




SWOKD OF HOUOR PRESENTED TO LAFAYETTE. 

he had always cherished a high regard for 
the Marquis, and greatly valued his 
friendship. The interview between the 
two was attended with the warmest emo- 
tions ; and whoever has seen Sully's por- 
trait of the great French patriot can form 
some adequate conception of the chieftain's 
magnificent bearing on this occasion. 

The announcement of his arrival sent a 
thrill of joy to every American heart and 
home, and the great pageant of his recep- 
tion commenced in the city where he first 
set foot forty years before. As the fleet 
arrived off the batterj' at New York, a mili- 
tary line composed of thousands of veter- 
ans was formed, and the people, crowding 
the battery and all the adjacent streets, 
swelled the throng to the number of forty 
thousand. The patriot was deeply affected 
when he exchanged congratulations with 
his old companions and friends. Shout 
after shout went up in long and loud 
acclaim, while the bands of music played 
a triumphant welcome to the hero. His 
atay in the city was one unbroken succes- 



sion of high honors and civic laudation, 
such as kings might envy ; at Albany, he 
was received by Vice-President Tompkins. 
On proceeding to New England, the same 
enthusiasm was exhibited in everj' city, 
town, and village. From the residence of 
Hon. William Eustis, the governor oi 
Massachusetts, in Roxburv, he was es- 
corted by a large cavalcade and almost the 
entire population, to Boston, where a 
dense assemblage awaited his appearance. 
Arriving at the line, he was greeted by 
the mayor of the city and the people, 
through whom he passed in a superb car- 
riage, under deafening cheers. The streets 
were lined with spectators to the entrance 
of the beautiful common. There, the 
children of the public schools formed two 
lines, the girls being dressed in spotless 
white, and the boys in white pants and 
blue jackets, and all wearing appropriate 
badges. A little girl sprang forward from 
the line as Lafayette was passing, and, at 
her request to speak to him, was lifted 
into the carriage, when she gracefully pre- 
sented him with a wreath of flowers, which 
the venerable hero received with affecting 
courtesy. ^Vhile going from town to town, 
he found in every place some of the 
descendants of 1776, ready to give him 
the heartiest of welcomes. Thus, when 
visiting Marblehead, in Massachusetts, the 
marquis manifested much curiosity at so 
many ladies being mingled with the male 
citizens, who had been deputed to receive 
him. The spokesman of the occasion, 
perceiving the pleasant surprise of the 
marquis at this peculiar feature, said to 
him — 

" These are the widows of those who 
perished in the revolutionary war, and the 
mothers of children for whose liberty you, 
illustrious sir ! have contended in the field 
of battle. They are now here in the 
places of their husbands, many of whom 
were once known to j'ou." 

It may here be remarked, that Marble- 
head was the "banner town" for furnish- 
ing soldiers, in the revolutionar}' war, 
there being a larger proportion to the 
whole number of inhabitants from that 



VISIT OF LAFAYETTE TO AMERICA. 



191 



tcvn than any other place in the United 
States. The British armed vessels hover- 
ing on the coast destroyed the coasting 
and fishing business, and thus the loss of 
men in the war fell heavily upon the small 
seaport towns ; for, being out of employ- 
ment, nearly all the young and old men 
shouldered their muskets and joined the 
army. 

At Philadelphia he was welcomed with 
almost idolizing enthusiasm ; for tender 
and thrilling indeed were the associations 
which linked together the historj^ of the 
past and present of that city, in the person 
and services of Lafayette ; the hospitali- 
ties of the state were appropriately dis- 
pensed by Governor Shultze. On landing 
at Baltimore, he was conducted to the 
'tent of Washington,' and the freedom of 
the state and city conferred upon him in 
an address by Governor Stevens. For 
some time Lafayette could not precisely 
understand the compliment conveyed in 
the selection of the tent — especially one of 
that construction — for 
such proceedings. It 
was soon made plain, 
~«5=fV[3K"»-"ri^ however, for, glancing 
lid, he recognized 
3n of Washi 




him, he said, in a voice tremulous with emo- 
tion, " / reviember ! " Proceeding to 
Washington, Lafayette was received with 
open arms by President Monroe, at the 
executive mansion. Congress had just 
assembled in regular session, at the capitol. 
He was introduced to both houses, and was 
formally and elegantlj' addressed by Mr. 
Clay, speaker of the house of representa- 
tives, the two branches unanimously unit- 
ing in their legislative honors to the 
nation's guest. At this session the sum 
of two hundred thousand dollars, together 
with a township, consisting of twenty- 
four thousand acres of fertile land, was 
voted bj^ congress to General Lafayette, as 
an expression of the grateful memory with 
which the jjeople of America regarded his 
services in their behalf. A few of the 
members felt themselves constrained, from 
some doubts respecting its constitution- 
ality, to vote against this appropriation. 
Lafayette, taking one of them by the 
hand, said to him with considerable feel- 
ing: 

" I appreciate your views. If I had 
been a member, I should have voted with 
you, not only because I partake of the sen- 
timents which determined your votes, but 
also because I think that the American 
nation has done too much for me." 
Most characteristic of Lafayette's 
"isiuterestedness and magnanim- 
y was that remark ! 
At this time, Governor Pleas- 
liief magistrate of the 
' and warmly wel- 
comed the na- 



ton's personal equipage 
during the war ; and 
turning to one near 



ed for the 
which event 
to the war. 



tion's guest. The 
emotions experi- 
enced by Lafay- 
ette, as he once 
more trod the bat- 
tle-fields of Vir- 
ginia, can of 
course hardly be 
described. York- 
town, distinguish- 
surrender of Cornwallis, 
gave the finishing blow 
presented a vast field 



192 



VISIT OF LAFAYETTE TO AMERICA. 



of tents at the reception of Lafayette. 
The same house occupied by Cornwallis, as 
his head-quarters in 1781, was still stand- 
ing. The general appearance of the place 
gave evidence of a deserted village. The 
houses of yore, which had been riddled 
with balls and blackened with smoke, still 
retained the marks of battle. In many 
parts of the ground were seen broken 
shells, and gun-carriages, with various 
implements of war, — some on rocks, and 
others half buried in the earth ; every 
arrangement having been made to give the 
town, on Lafayette's arrival, the appear- 
ance of a place taken and occupied after a 
severe contest in battle. One of the tents 
erected on this occasion, was the one used 
by Washington at the time of the siege, 
together with others which had furnished 
temporary apartments for weary soldiers 
during the eventful campaign. An arch, 
bearing the names of Lafaj-ette, Hamilton, 
and Laurens, was erected on the very spot 
where the redoubt stood which was stormed 
by Lafayette ; an obelisk was also erected, 
bearing the names of distinguished French- 
men. And on the same spot it is said 
that the orator of the occasion was design- 
ing, at the close of his address, to jilace a 
blended civic crown and national wreath 
in honor of Lafayette, who, while he 
acknowledged the unique compliment, 
gracefully averted its consummation, and, 
taking the symbolic garland in his hand, 
called for Colonel Fish, the only survivor 
of the attack upon the redoubt, and 
declared that half the honor belonged to 
him. Washington's marquee was erected 
on the plain, just out of the village. Be- 
ing escorted to this tent, Lafayette gave 
an affecting welcome to the officers of the 
militia. Two old veterans were there, who 
had faced the enemj^ in war, and stood firm 
in the midst of the roar of the cannon ; 
but as they pressed the hand of Lafayette 
on this occasion, the old heroes wept and 
fainted. Some of the servants who were 
present discovered in an obscure corner of 
a cellar a large box of candles, bearing 
marks of belonging to Cornwallis's military 
stores — having remained undisturbed for 



forty-three years. They were lighted for 
the evening, and notwithstanding the 
fatigues of the day, some of the old soldiers 
remained till the last vestige of these Brit- 
ish candles had expired in the sockets. 

Taking Camden, South Carolina — Gov- 
ernor Richard J. Manning, — in his tour, 
Lafayette assisted in laj'ing the corner- 
stone of a monument erected to the name 
and memory of Baron de Kalb, a German 
by birth, who came over in the same vessel 
with Lafaj'ette, in 1776, and volunteered 
his services in the American army for 
three years. He fell while bravely en- 
gaged in the battle at Camden, pierced 
with eleven deadly wounds. It is said 
that Washington, visiting the baron's 
grave many years after his death, sighed 
as he looked upon it, and exclaimed, 
"There lies the brave De Kalb, the gener- 
ous stranger, who came from a distant 
land to fight our battles, and to water with 
his blood the tree of Liberty. Would to 
God he had lived to share with us in its 
fruits ! " At Savannah, Georgia, after 
being welcomed by Governor Troup, Lafay- 
ette united in the same service commemor- 
ative of Generals Greene and Pulaski. 
On the seventeenth of June, Lafajette 
witnessed the laying of the corner-stone of 
Bunker Hill monument, at Charlestown, 
Massachusetts ; he was the only surviving 
major-general of the revolution who was 
present at this ceremony. Colonel Francis 
K. Huger particijjated in the patriotic 
services — the man who, when a lad, walked 
with Lafayette over his father's grounds, 
and who, some thirty years before this 
seventeenth of June, risked his life in 
attempting to aid the escape of Lafayette 
from the castle of Olmutz. The people of 
Charlestown not only welcomed Huger, 
but gave him a seat by the side of Lafay- 
ette, in the carriage which moved in the 
procession, and also one near him at the 
festive board. Daniel W^ebster was the 
orator for the day ; it was the fiftieth anni- 
versary of the battle; and everything con- 
spired to render the day memorable. As 
the procession passed, Lafaj'ette was con- 
tinually hailed with demonstrations of love 



VISIT OF LAPAYETTE W AMERICA. 



lyc 



and gratitude. Tbe procession was sev- 
eral miles long, and, on arriving attlie his- 
toric spot, tlie impressive rite of laying the 
corner-stone was performed by the grand 
master of the Freemasons, the president of 



M 










LAlAlI.lH-:5 i;:i;iiiil_i.*-l.. 



the Monument Association, and General 
Lafayette, in the presence of a vast con- 
course of people. The assembly then 
moved to a spacious amphitheatre, where 
the oration was pronounced by Mr. Web- 
ster, before as great a multitude as was 
ever, perhaps, assembled within the sound 
of a human voic3. 

There was one place — Kaskaskia, on the 
route of Lafayette's tour, at which, though 
no preparations had been made to receive 
him, he paused a short time ; and here it 
was that a most affecting incident oc- 
curred. Curiosity induced one of his com- 
panions to go and look at an Indian 
encampment, a short distance from the 
town. He there met with an educated 
Indian woman, who spoke the French lan- 
guage tolerably well, and who expressed a 
desire to see Lafayette, and to show him a 
relic which she always carried with her, 
and which was "very dear to her." She 
wished to show it to Lafayette, as proof of 
the veneration with which his name was 
regarded among their tribes. It was a 
letter written by Lafayette in 1778, and 
addressed to her father, Panisciowa, a 

la 



chief of one of the six nations. This letter 
expressed the hearty thanks of Lafayette 
for tlie faithful services of that chief in the 
American cause. The name of this only 
child of the old chief was Mary, who, at 
the decease of her mother, was 
""^"""d ""'i"r the care of an 
Auinu III igent, by whom she 
■n lb msti noted and kindlj' treat- 
ed Slit b( I ime a Christian. As 
^lie was \\ Ukmg out in the for- 
— ~ est, about five 
years after, an 
Indian warrior 
overtook her and 
i informed her that 
her father was dj- 
ing, and wished 
to see her. She 
-non started off, 
traveled all night, 
and in the morn- 
ing reached his 
liut, which was 
situated in a narrow valley. As she came to 
his bedside, he took from his pouch a paper 
wrapped in a dry skin, and gave it to her, 
with a charge to preserve it as a precious 
gift, saj^ing: "It is a powerful charm to 
interest the pale-faces in your favor. I 
received it from a great French warrior, 
whom the English dreaded as much as the 
Americans loved him, and with whom I 
fought in my youth." The chief died the 
next daj'. Mary returned to her white 
friends, and soon after married the J'oung 
warrior, who was her father's friend and 
companion. She had the pleasure of 
showing the letter to Lafayette, who rec- 
ognized it, and listened with great respect 
and deep feeling to her touching story. 

Another most interesting episode was that 
which transpired at Lafayette's reception 
in Nashville, Tenn., Governor Carroll pre- 
siding at the state ceremonies. There had 
come from different parts of the country 
about forty officers and soldiers of the rev- 
olution. Among the number was an aged 
man who had traveled one hundred and 
fifty miles. His name was Haguy, » 
German, and he was one of those who 



1U4 



VISIT OF LAFAYETTE TO AMERICA. 



cmbailied in the same vessel with Lafa3'- 
otre for tliis country, nearly fifty j-ears 
hack, and served under him during the 
whole war. The old veteran, clasping 
Lafayette's hand with affectionate 
warmth, the tears rolling down his 
cheeks, said : 

" I have come many miles to see the 
' 3'oung general.' I have had two hapjiy 
days in my life — one, when I landed with 
you on the American coast, nearly fift^' 
years ago, and to-day when I see your face 
again. I have lived long enough." Tlie 
sensation produced by this scene, in that 
great throng, was for a time completely 
overpowering. 

Not less interesting was the interview, 
at Buffalo, between Lafayette and ' Red 
Jacket,' the old chief of the Seneca tribe 
of Indians. They had both met in council 
at Fort Schuyler, in 1784. Red Jacket, 
in conversation with General Lafayette, 
made some allusions to that famous coun- 
cil, and to those who participated in its 
proceedings, when Lafayette inquired with 
some curiosity — 

"Where is the young warrior, I wonder, 
who opposed the burying of the toma- 
ha\vk ? " 

" He is here before j'ou," instantly re- 
plied the aged chief. 

"Ah. I see," replied the gener.al, "time 
has clianged us. We were once young 
and a.;tive." 

"But," said the cliief, "time has made 
less change on you than on me." 

Saying this he uncovered his head, and 
exhibited his entire baldness. The gen- 
eral wore a wig, and, not wishing to 
deceive Red Jacket, took it from his head, 
to the no small amusement of the aston- 
islied Indian. 

A visit to the tomb of Washington was 
one of tlie most notable events in Lafav- 
ette's tour. His arrival there was an- 
nounced by the firing of cannon, which 
brouglit to liis memory the din of war, — 
the scenes of the revolution, — when he, 
with che great but now lifeless chieftain, 
were si'ie by side in battle. Standing for 
awbi)t> upon the consecrated ground and 



amidst the solemn stillness of the place, 
lie descended alone into the tomb with his 
liead uncovered. There he remained in 
solitary contemplation for some time — the 
living aged veteran communing with the 
illustrious dead. He returned with his 
face bathed in tears, and, taking Jiis son 
and Levasseur, the secretarj', by the hand, 
led them into the tomb. He could not 
speak, but pointed mutely to the coffin of 
Washington. They knelt reverently by 
it, kissed it, and, rising, threw themselves 
into the arms of Lafayette, and for a few 
moments wept in silence. Lafayette was 
now presented, by the hand of Mr. Custis, 
one of the surviving family connections of 
Washington, with a massive finger-ring 
containing a portion of the hair of his 
departed friend. He was also the recipi- 
ent of some other personal memorials of 
tlie "Father of his Country." 

During this tour Lafayette visited every 
one of the twenty-four states of the Union, 
and traveled over five thousand miles. In 
nearly every region which he visited, 
towns or counties, and literary, scientific 
or civic associations, named in honor of 
him, still preserve his memorj'. Indeed, 
one of the foremost of the great colleges of 
the Middle states dates from the same 
period. At Easton, in Pennsylvania, 
the citizens convened on the 27th of 
December, 1824, and resolved to estab- 
lish Lafayette College, an eminent 
institution of learning, in memory of 
and "as a testimonj^ of respect for the 
talents, virtues and signal sevices, of 
General Lafayette, in the great cause of 
Freedom." 

When the time which he had allotted 
for his tour had expired, Lafaj'ette re- 
paired to Washington, to pay his parting 
respects to the chief magistrate of the 
nation, John Quincy Adams, who had suc- 
ceeded President Monroe. This took 
place at the presidential mansion, on the 
sixth of September, 1825. The farewell 
address from the president, in behalf of 
the w^hole American people, was a most 
affecting tribute to the lofty character and 
patriotic services of Lafayette, during liis 



VISIT OF LAFAYETTE TO AMERICA. 



195 



long and eventful career, and closed with 
the following words : 

" You are ours by that unshaken senti- 
ment of gratitude for your services which 
is a precious portion of our inheritance ; 
ours by that tie of love, stronger than 
■ leath, which has linked your name for the 
ei'.dless ages of time with the name of 
Wasliington. At the painful moment of 




-f>\( '»' 



larting with you 

y we take comfort 

the thought 



that, wherever you may be, to the last pul- 
sation of your heart, our country will ever 
be present to your affections ; and a cheer- 
ing consolation assures us that we are not 



called to sorrow — most of all, that we 
shall see j'our face no more, — for wa 
shall indulge the pleasing anticipation 
of beholding our friend again. In the 
name of the whole people of the United 
States, I bid 3'ou a reluctant and affec- 
tionate farewell." 

To this parting address from the lips of 
the nation's distinguished chief magistrate, 
Lafayette replied in a strain of patriotic 
and impassioned eloquence never to be 
forgotten. 

On the same da\ he embarked for 
Fi mi p on boaid the Biandywine, a new 
frigate, named 
thus in compli- 
ment to Lafay- 
, who, on the 
hanks of that riv- 
fr, was wounded 
111 his first battle 
tor American 
freedom. In the 
\ liole range of 
history, ancient 
or modern, there 
is no instance of 
similar honors being paid to any hero, by 
the united and spontaneous will of a great 
people ; and when, nine j-ears after, he paid 
the debt of nature, that same great people 
gave vent to universal grief, and every 
tongue spoke words of eulogy to the mem- 
ory of America's most illustrious friend- 



XXIV. 

DUEL BETWEEN HENRY CLAY, SECRETARY OF STATE, 
AND JOHN RANDOLPH, UNITED STATES SENA- 
TOR FROM VIRGINIA.— 1826. 



Randolph's Bitter Insult to Clay on the Floor of the Senate. — Accuses Him of Falsifying an Official 
Document. — Tlie Puritan and " Blackleg " Taunt. — Clay Challenges the Senator to Mortal Com- 
bat. — Words and Acts of these Two Foremost Men of their Times, on the " Field of Honor." — 
Result of the Hostile Meeting. — Fame of these Party Leaders. — Ancient Political Antagonists — 
Origin of the Present Dispute. — Randolph's Gift of Sarcasm. — Applies it Severely to Clay. — Clay 
Demands Satisfaction. — Reconciliation Refused. — Bladensburg the Dueling-Ground. — Pistols the 
Weapons Chosen — Colonel Benton a Mutual Friend. — Incidents the Night Before. — Randolph's 
Secret Resolve — Going to the Field of Blood. — View of this Shrine of •' Chivalry." — Salutations of 
the Combatants. — Solemn Interest of the Scene. — Distance Ten Paces. — A Harmless Exchange of 
Shots. — Clay Calls it "Child's Play!" — Another Fire. — No Injury. — "Honor" Satisfied. — Pleasant 
Talk with Each Other. 



" I would Dot have eeen him fall mortally, or even doubtfully, wounded, for ell the land that is watered by the King of Floods and all 
bia tfiljutary dtreuina."— Randolph to BtSTON. 

" I trust in God, my dear air, you are untouched t after what has occurred,! would not have harmed you tor a thousand worldi.'*— 
Clay to Ranuolpb 




would be needless, at this point of time, to recount 
the circumstances of that long and bitter antago- 
nism which characterized the relations, in political 
life, between the renowned and eccentric John 
Randolph and the equally famous and brilliant 
Henry Clay. This antagonism, after the accession 
to the department of state by Mr. Claj', under the 
presidency of John Quincy Adams, acquired addi- 
tional violence, and finally led to a hostile encoun- 
ter, under the following circumstances: The presi- 
pRELiMiN ARIES OF THE " CODE OF Ho.voB." dcut had SBut in a Hiessage to the senate, on the 
subject of the Panama mission. A motion was made in the senate for a call upon the 
president for further information. In response to this the president answered bj' a 
message, with the tone of which Randolph was greatly displeased, and, in his place in 
the senate, bitterly denounced it and its authors. President Adams and his secretary', 
Mr. Clay. Alluding to one passage in particular, in the president's message, Randolph 
was reported as saying : " Here I plant my foot ; here I fling defiance right into his 
teeth ; here I throw the gauntlet to him, and the bravest of his compeers, to come 
forward and defend these lines." And he concluded his speech with the sentence : 



DUEL BETWEEN CLAY AND RANDOLPH. 



197 



"I was defeated, horse, foot, and dragoons 
— cut up, clean broke down by the coali- 
tion of Blifil and Black George — by the 
combination unheard of till then, of the 
Puritan with the Blackleij." But, what 
was most pointed, perhaps, than anything 
else, in this assault upon IVLr. Clay's honor, 
was Randolph's statement, " that a letter 
from General Salazar, the Mexican min- 
ister at Washington, submitted by the 
executive to the senate, bore the ear-mark 
of having been manufactured or forged by 
the secretary of state." 

Mr. Clay smarted under the stigma of 
these charges. He demanded explana- 
tions. These being refused, Clay at once 
sent a challenge, which Randolph accepted. 
The seconds, however, chosen by the dis- 
tinguished principals, determined to at- 
tempt an accommodation, or a peaceable 
termination of the difficulty. But Ran- 
dolph, though modifying the unrevised 
and somewhat inaccurate report of his 
speech which had gone forth, refused to 
explain, out of the senate, the words he 
had used within it. Clay was peremptory 
with Randolph, on the point of honor, as 
he had also been with Humphrey Mar- 
shall, in 1808, whom the brilliant Ken- 
tuckian challenged and fought. Though 
bad enough, both personally and politically, 
these duels of the great Kentuckian will 
at least compare favorably with the later 
duel between Graves of Kentucky, and 
Cilley of Maine, in which Webb, the New 
York journalist, bore so prominent a part. 

It being certain that there was no hope 
of reconciliation, the seconds proceeded to 
arrange for the duel. The afternoon of 
Saturday, April eighth, 1826, was fixed 
upon for the time, — the right bank of the 
Potomac, within the state of Virginia, 
above the Little Falls bridge, was the 
place, — pistols the weapons, distance ten 
paces, — each party to be attended by two 
seconds and a surgeon, and Senator Ben- 
ton to be present as a mutual friend. 
There was to be no practicing with pistols, 
and there was none; and the words, ' One, 
two, three, — stop,' after the word ' Fire,' 
were, by agreement between the seconds 



and for the humane purpose of reducing 
the result as near as possible to chance, to 
be given out in quick succession. The 
Virginia side of the Potomac was taken, 
according to Mr. Benton's account of the 
duel, at the instance of Mr. Randolph. 
He went out as a Virginia senator, refus- 
ing to compromise that character, and, if 
he fell in defense of what he deemed to 
be its rights, Virginia soil was to him the 
chosen ground to receive his blood. There 
was a statute of the state against dueling 
within her limits ; but as he merely went 
out to receive a fire without returning it 
he deemed that no fighting, and conse- 
quently no breach of her statute. 

The week's delay, which the seconds 
had contrived, was about expiring. It was 
Friday night, when Mr. Benton went to 
see Mr. Clay for the last time before the 
duel. There had been some alienation 
between the two since the time of the 
presidential election in the house of repre- 
sentatives, and the senator desired to show 
Mr. Clay that there was nothing personal 
in it. The family (says Mr. Benton) were 
in the parlor, — company present, — and 
some of it staid late. The youngest child 
went to sleep on the sofa, — a circumstance 
which availed me for tlio next day. Mrs. 
Chiy was, as always after the death of her 
daughters, the picture of desolation, but 
calm, conversable, and without the slight- 
est apparent consciousness of the impend- 
ing event. When all were gone, and she 
also had left the parlor, I did what I came 
for, and said to Mr. Clfiy that, notwith- 
standing our late political differences, my 
personal feelings were the same towards 
him as formerly, and that, in whatever 
concerned his life or honor, my best wishes 
were with him. He expressed his gratifi- 
cation at the visit and the declaration, and 
said it was what he would have expected 
of me. We parted at midnight. 

Mr. Benton's account continues as fol- 
lows : Saturday, the 8th of April, 1826, 
—the day for the duel, — had come, and 
almost the hour. It was noon, and the 
meeting was to take place at half-past four 
o'clock. I had gone to see Mr. Randolph 



198 



DUEL BETWEEN CLAY AND KANDOLPH. 



before the hour, and for a purpose. I had 
heard nothing from him on the point of 
not returning the fire, since the first com- 
munication to that effect, eight days be- 
fore. I had no reason to doubt the steadi- 
ness of his determination ; but felt a 
desire to have some fresli assurance of it 
after so many daj's' delay, and so near 
approach of the trj'ing moment. I knew 
it would not do to ask him tlie question, — ■ 
any question that would imply a doubt of 
his word. So I fell upon a scheme to get 
at the inquiry without seeining to make 
it. I told him of my visit to Mrs. Clay 
the night before, — of the late sitting, — the 
child asleep, — the unconscious tranquillity 




'1 



of Mrs. Clay ; and added. I could not help 
reflecting how different all that might be 
the next night. He understood me per- 
fectly, and immediately said, with a 
quietude of look and expression which 
seemed to rebuke an unworthy doubt, — 

" I shall do nothing to disturb the sleep 
of the child, or the repose of the motlier." 

Mr. Randolph at the same time went 
on with his employment — his seconds 



being engaged in their preparations in a 
different room, — which was, making codi- 
cils to his will, all in the way of remem- 
brance to friends ; the bequests slight in 
value, but invaluable in tenderness of 
feeling and beauty of expression, and 
always appropriate to the receiver. To 
Mr. Macon, he gave some English shil- 
lings, to keep the game when he played 
whist. His namesake, John Randolph 
Bryan, then at school in Baltimore, and 
afterwards married to his niece, was sent 
for to see him, but sent off before the hour 
for going out, to save the boy from a pos- 
sible shock of seeing him brought back. 
He wanted some gold, — that coin not 
being then in circulation, and only to be 
obtained by favor or purchase, — and sent 
his faithful man, Johnnj', to the United 
States Branch Bank, to get a few pieces, — 
American being the kind asked for. 
Johnny returned without the gold, and 
delivered the excuse that the bank had 
none. Instantly his clear silver-toned 
voice was heard above its natural pitch, 
exclaiming : " Their name is legion ! and 
they are liars from the beginning. Johnny, 
bring me my liorse." His own saddle- 
horse was brought him, for he never rode 
Johnny's, nor Johnny his, though both, 
and all his hundred horses, were of the 
finest English blood ; and he rode off to 
the bank, down Pennsj'lvania avenue, 
Johnny following, as always, forty paces 
behind. Arrived at the bank, the follow- 
ing scene transpired. Mr. Randolph asked 
for the state of liis account, was shown it, 
and found it to be some four thousand dol- 
lars in his favor. He asked for it. The 
teller took up packages of bills, and civilly 
asked in what sized notes he would have 
it. " I want money," said Mr. Randolph, 
putting emphasis on the word ; and at that 
time it required a bold man to intimate 
that United States Bank notes were not 
money. The teller, beginning to under- 
stand him, and willing to make sure, said, 
inquiringly : 

" You want silver ? " 

" I want my money" was the reply. 

"Have you a cart, Mr. Randolph, to 



DUEL BETWEEN CLAY AND RANDOLPH. 



199 



put it in ?" said the teller, politely, lifting 
boxes to the counter. 

" That is my business, sir," answered 
Randolph. 

By this time, the attention of the casliier 
was attracted to what was going on, who 
came up, and, understanding the question 
and its cause, told Mr. Randolph there 
was a mistake in the answer given to his 
servant ; that they had gold, and he should 
have what he wanted. In fact, he had 
only applied for a few pieces, which he 
wanted for a special purpose. This brought 
about a compromise. The pieces of gold 
were received, — the cart and the silver 
dispensed with. 

On returning, Randolph handed a sealed 
paper to Mr. Benton, which the latter was 
to open in case Randolph was killed, — 
give back to him if he was not ; also 
an open slip, which that senator was to 
read before he got to the ground. This 
slip was a request . to feel in his left 
breeches' pocket, if he was killed, and find 
so many pieces of gold, — Mr. Benton to 
take three for himself, and give the same 
number to Tatnall and Hamilton each, to 
make seals to wear in remembrance of him. 
He also remembered his friend Macon. 
They were all three at Mr. Randolph's 
lodgings, then, and soon set out, — Mr. 
Randolph and his seconds in a carriage, 
and Mr. Benton following him on horse- 
back. 

As has already been stated, the count 
was to be quick after giving the word ' Fire,' 
and for a reason which could not be told 
to the principals. To Mr. Randolph, who 
did not mean to fire, and who, though 
agreeing to be shot at, had no desire to be 
hit, this rapidit3''of counting out the time, 
and quick arrival of the command ' Stop,' 
presented no objection. With Mr. Clay 
it was different. With him it was all a 
real transaction, and gave rise to some 
proposal for more deliberateness in count- 
ingoff the time, which being communicated 
to Colonel Tatnall, (Randolph's friend.) 
and by him to Mr. Randolph, had an ill 
effect upon his feelings, and, aided by an 
untoward accident on the ground, unset- 



tled for a moment the noble determination 
which he had formed not to fire at Mr. 
Clay. General Jesup (Clay's friend,) 
states, that, when he repeated to Mr. Clay 
the 'word' in the manner in which it 
would be given, Mr. Clay expressed some 
apprehension that, as he was not accus- 
tomed to the use of the pistol, he might 
not be able to fire within the time, and 
for that reason alone desired that it might 
be prolonged. This desire of Mr. Clay 
was mentioned, on his behalf, to Colonel 
Tatnall, who replied, " If you insist upon 
it, the time must be prolonged, but I should 
very much regret it." The original agree- 
ment was carried out. Mr. Benton, how- 
ever, states that he himself knew nothing 
of all this, until it was too late to speak 
with the seconds or principals, he having 
crossed the Little Falls bridge just after 
them, and come to the place where the serv- 
ants and carriages had stopped. He saw 
none of the gentlemen, and supposed they 
had all gone to the spot where the ground 
was being marked off; but on speaking to 
Johnnj', Mr. Randoljjh, who was still in 
his carriage, and heard the voice, looked 
out from the window and said to Colonel 
Benton — 

" Colonel, since I saw you, and since I 
have been in this carriage, I have heard 
something which may make me change 
my determination. Colonel Hamilton will 
give you a note which will explain it." 

Colonel Hamilton was then in the car- 
riage, and in the course of the evening 
gave to Colonel Benton the note, of which 
Mr. Randolph spoke. Colonel Benton 
readily comprehended that this possible 
change of determination related to Ran- 
dolph's firing ; but the emphasis with 
which he pronounced the word ' way,' 
clearly showed that his mind was unde- 
cided, and left it doubtful whether he 
would fire or not. No further conversa- 
tion, however, took place between them — 
the preparations for the duel were finished 
— the parties went to their places. 

The place was a thick forest, and the 
immediate spot a little depression, or 
basin, in which the parties stood. Not 



200 



DUEL BETWEEN CLAY AND RANDOLPH. 



far west of Bladensburg, just beyond the 
line wliich separates the federal city from 
the state of Maryland, a short distance off 
the road from Washington, is this dueling- 
ground, — a dingle, embosomed in a sun- 
burnt amphitheatre of trees, secluded, and 
from associations, no less than location, a 
dismal shrine, consecrated to human sacri- 
fices. On this spot, not long before the 
battle of Bladen:burg in the second war 
with England, a United States secretarj' 
of the treasury shot his antagonist, Mr. 
Gardenier, through the body, both mem- 
bers of congress, in a party duel. Deca- 
tur, surrounded by brother naval officers, 
fell there. A senator of the United States 
lost his life there, horribly fighting with 
muskets at pistol distance. Otlier vic- 
tims to the vanity of honor, so called, have 
lost or staked their lives on this field of 
blood. 

But never before, on that fatal field, 
was any scene enacted, comparable with 
tliat which was to witness a mortal con- 
test between Henry Claj' and John Ran- 
dolph. Not too highly has the graphic 
delineator of these dramatis persona; (Mr. 
Baldwin, in his "Party Leaders,") drawn 
the picture, in saj'ing that there stood on 
the hanks of the Potomac, on that bright 
April evenitiff, as the sun was declining 
hehiiid the high hills of Virginia, in the 
attitude of combatants, two -men, around 
whom gathered, prohabhj, a more stirring 
interest, than around any other two vien 
in the Union. And yet, their political 
opinions and personal history were as 
opposite as their persons, when they stood 
in their places. Against any and all 
insinuations of corruption, Mr. Clay might 
safely have left his reputation with the 
people. His splendid services as peace 
commissioner to Europe, with such col- 
leagues as Bayard, Gallatin, Russell and 
Adams ; his long period of statesman-like 
service in the house of representatives, 
succeeding repeatedly to the chair that 
had been dignified by Muhlenberg, Trum- 
bull, Dayton, Varnum, Cheves, and Bar- 
bour, — this his record should hava suf- 
ficed for his honor. 



The two were alike only in chivalry of 
bearing, integrity and independence of 
character, genius and pride. They had 
to all appearance met now to fight to the 
death with physical weapons, as they had 
met so often before, to do battle with the 
weapons of intellectual warfare. Their 
opposition had been unceasing. Each 
looked upon the other as, if not the ablest, 
at least as the most annoying and dreaded 
opponent of his political principles and 
personal aims. They were, in early life, 
and to some extent, still, representatives 




of different phases of American society. 
Randolph, born to aiHuence ; descended 
from a long and honored line ; accustomed 
alwaj'S to wealth, familj' influence, and the 
pride of aristocracy and official jrosition. 
Clay, on the other hand, born in obscurity, 
of humble parentage — the first man of his 
family known out of his county — " the 
mill-boy of the Slashes ; " but winning 
his way and rising rapidly, by his boldness 
and talents, to the very summit of public 
station and influence, so as to be stjded 
the " Great Commoner ; " — these were the 
two men, alike in splendid gifts of intel- 
lect, j-et so unlike in character and circum- 
stance, who now, weapon in hand, stood 
opposed in deadly conflict. 

As they took their stands, the princi- 



DUEL BETWEEN CLAY AND RANDOLPH. 



201 



pals saluted each other courteously, accord- 
ing to the usage of the ' code.' Colonel 
Tatnall had won the choice of position, 
which gave to General Jesup the delivery 
of the word. They stood on a line east 
and west; there was a small stump just 
behind Mr. Clay, and a low gravelly bank 
rose just behind Mr. Randolpli. The 
latter asked General Jesup to repeat the 
word as he would give it ; and while in 
the act of doing so, and Mr. liandolph 
adjusting the butt of his pistol to his 
hand, the muzzle pointing downwards, and 
almost to the ground, it fired. Instantly 
Mr. Randolph turned to Colonel Tatnall, 
and said, " I protested against that hair 
trigger." 

Colonel Tatnall took blame to himself 
for liaving sprung the hair. Mr. Clay 
had not then received his jiistol. Mr. 
Johnson, one of his seconds, was carrying 
it to him, and still several steps from him. 
This untimely fire, though clearly an acci- 
dent, necessarily gave rise to some re- 
marks, and a species of inquiry, which 
was conducted with the utmost delicacy, 
but which, in itself, was of a nature to be 
inexpressibly painful to a gentleman's 
feelings. Mr. Clay stopped it with the 
generous remark that the fire was clearly 
an accident, and it was so unanimously 
declared. Another pistol was immediately 
furnished; an exchange of sliots took 
place, and, happily, without effect upon 
tlie persons. Mr. Randolph's bullet struck 
the stump behind Mr. Clay, and Mr. Clay's 
knocked up the earth and gravel behind 
Mr. Randolph, and in a line with the level 
of his hips, both bullets having gone so 
true and close, that it was a marvel how 
tliey missed. 

The moment had now arrived when 
Colonel Benton felt that he could inter- 
pose. He accordingly went in among the 
parties, and offered his mediation. Noth- 
ing, however, could be done. Mr. Clay 
said, with that wave of the hand with 
which he was accustomed to put away a 
trifle, " This is child's play !" and required 
another fire. Mr. Randolph also demanded 
another fire. The seconds were directed 



to reload. While this was doing. Colonel 
Benton prevailed on Mr. Randolph to 
walk away from his post, and importuned 
him, more pressingly than ever, to yield to 
some accommodation. The colonel found 
him, however, more determined than ever 
before, and for the first time impatient, 
and seemingly annoyed and dissatisfied at 
such approaches. The accidental fire of 
his pistol preyed upon his feelings. He 
was doubly chagrined at it, both as a cir- 
cumstance susceptible in itself of an unfair 
interpretation, and as having been tlie 
immediate and controlling cause of his fir- 
ing at Mr. Clay. He regretted this fire 
the instant it was over. He felt that it 
had subjected him to imputations from 
which he knew himself to be free, — a 
desire to kill Mr. Clay, and a contempt for 
the laws of his state ; and the annoyances 
which he felt at these vexatious circum- 
stances revived his original determination, 
and decided him irrevocably to carry it 
out. 

It was in this interval that Mr. Ran- 
dolph told Colonel Benton what he had 
heard since they parted, and to which he 
alluded when speaking from the window 
of the carriage. It was to this effect : 
that he had been informed by Colonel 
Tatnall, that it was proposed to give out 
the words with more deliberateness, so as 
to prolong the time for taking aim. This 
information grated harshly upon his 
feelings. It unsettled his purpose, 
and brought his mind to the inquiry 
expressed in the following note, which 
he had immediately written in pencil, 
to apprise Colonel Benton of his possible 
change : 

" Information received from Colonel 
Tatnall since I got into the carriage may 
induce me to change my mind of not 
returning Mr. Clay's fire. I seek not his 
death. I would not have his blood upon 
my hands — it will not be upon my soul if 
shed in self-defense — for the world. He 
has determined, by the use of a long, pre- 
paratory caution by words, to get time to 
kill me. May I nut, then, disable him ? 
Yes, if I please." 



202 



DUEL BETWEEN CLAY AND RANDOLPH. 



According to the statement of General 
Jesup, ali\'ady given, this ' information ' 
was a misapprehension, Mr. Clay not hav- 
ing a|)plied for a prolongation of time for 
the purpose of getting sure aim, but only 
to enable his unused hand, long unfa- 
miliar with the pistol, to fire within the 
limited time. There was no prolongation, 
in fact, either granted or insisted upon ; 
but Mr. Randolph was in doubt, and Gen- 
eral Jesup having won the word, he was 
having him repeat it in the wa^^ he was 
to give it out, when his finger touched the 
hair trigger. The inquiry, ' May I not 
disable him? ' was still on Mr. Randolph's 
mind, and dependent for its solution on 
the rising incidents of the moment, when 
the accidental fire of his pistol, gave the 
turn to his feelings which solved the 



was to disable him, and spoil his aim. 
And then he added, with the deepest feel- 
ing— 

'^ I would not have seen him, fall mor- 
ialbj, or even douhtfulbj, tcounded, for all 
the land that is icutered by the King oj 
Floods and all his tributary streams." 

Saying this, Mr. Randolph left Colonel 
Benton to resume his post, utterly refusing 
to explain out of the senate anything that 
he had said in it, and with the positive 
declaration that he would not return the 
next fire. Colonel Benton concludes his 
reminiscences of this most remarkable 
affair, as follows: I withdrew a little waj- 
into the woods, and kept my eyes fixed 
upon Mr. Randolph, whom I then knew to 
be the only one in danger. I saw him 
receive the fire of Mr. Clay, saw the 













DUELIXG-GROrXn AT DLAnENSBlRG. 



doubt. But he .afterwards declared to 
Colonel Benton, that he had not aimed at 
the life of Mr. Clay ; that he did not level 
as high as the knee — not higher than the 
knee-band, ' for it was no mercy to shoot 
a man in the knee;' that his only object 



gravel knocked up in the same place, saw 
Mr. Randolph raise his pistol, — discharge 
it into the air, — heard him say, " I do not 
fire at you, Mr. Clnij," — and immediately 
advancing, and offering his hand. He 
was met in the cr.me spirit. They met 



DUEL BETWEEN CLAY AND RANDOLPH. 



203 



half-way, shook hands, Mr. Eandolph say- 
ing jocosely, " You owo me a coat, Mr. 
Clay" — (the bullet had passed through 
the skirt of the coat, very near the hip) 
— to which Mr. Clay promptly and haj)- 
pily replied, " I am glad the. debt is no 
yreater." I had come up, and was prompt 
to proclaim what I had been obliged to 
keep secret for eight days. The joy of all 
was extreme at this happy termination of 
a most critical affair, and we immediately 
left, with lighter hearts than we brought, 
I stopped to sup with Mr. Eandolph and 
his friends, — none of us wanted dinner, — 
and had a characteristic time of it. A 
runner came in from the bank, to say that 
they had overpaid him, by mistake, one 
hundred and thirty dollars that day. Mr. 
Randoljjh answered, '• I believe it is j-our 
rule not to correct mistakes, except at the 
time and at your counter." And with 
that answer the runner had to return. 
When gone, Mr. Randolph said, ''I will 
pay it on Monday ; people must be honest, 
if banks are not." He asked for the 
sealed paper he had given me, opened it, 
took out a check for one thousand dollars, 
drawn in my favor, and with which I was 
requested to have him carried, if killed, to 
Virginia, and buried under his patri- 
monial oaks, — not let him be buried at 
Washington, with an hundred hacks after 
him. He took the gold from his left 
breeches pocket, and said to ns (Hamil- 
ton, Tatnall, and I), — 

" Gentlemen, Claj^'s bad shooting shan't 
rob you of your seals. I am going to 
London, and will have them made for 
you." 

This he did (says Colonel Benton), and 
most characteristically, so far as mine was 
concerned. He went to the heraldry oflSce 
in London, and inquired for the Benton 
family, of which I had often told him 
there was none, as we only dated on that 
side from my grandfather in North Caro- 
lina. But the name was found, and with 
it a coat of arms, — among the quarterings 
a lion rampant. "This is the family," 
said he ; and had the arms engraved on 
the seal. 



The account given by General James 
Hamilton, of this duel, states that, in 
company with Colonel Tatnall, he repaired, 
at midnight, to Mr. Randolph's lodgings, 
and found him reading Milton's great 
poem. For some moments he did not per- 
mit them to say one word in relation to 
the approaching duel, for he at once com- 
menced one of those delightful criticisms 
on a passage of this poet, in which he was 
wont so enthusiastically to indulge. After 
a pause, Colonel Tatnall remarked : 

"Mr. Randolph, I am told you have 
determined not to return Mr. Clay's fire ; 
I must say to you, my dear sir, if I am 
only to go out to see j'ou shot down, you 
must find some other friend." 

"Well, Tatnall," said Mr. Randolph, 
after much conversation on the subject, " I 
promise you one thing; if I see the devil 
in C/dt/'s eye, and that, with malice pre- 
2>ense, he means to take mij life, I may 
change my mind." 

As the sequel showed, however, he saw 
no ' devil in Clay's eye,' but a man fear- 
less, and expressing the mingled sensi- 
bility and firmness pertaining to the 
occasion. For, whilst Tatnall was load- 
ing Mr. Randolph's pistol, Hamilton ap- 
proached Randolph, took his hand, — in 
the touch of which there was not the 
quivering of one pulsation, — and then, 
turning to Hamilton, Randoljih said: 

" Clay is calm, but not vindictive ; I 
hold my purpose, Hamilton, in any event; 
remeniher this." 

On Randolph's pistol going off without 
the word. General Jesup, Mr. Clay's 
friend, called out that he would instantly 
leave the ground with his friend, if that 
occurred again. On the word being 
given, Mr. Clay fired without effect, Mr. 
Randolph discharging his pistol in the 
air. On seeing this, Mr. Clay instantly 
approached Mr. Randolph, and with a gush 
of the deepest emotion, said, — 

" / trust in God, my dear sir, you are 
untouched; after what has occurred, I 
ivould not have harmed you for a thou- 
sand vorlds /" 

On the ensuing Monday, Mr. Clay and 



204 



DUEL BETWEEN CLAY AND KANDOLPH. 



Mr. Randolph formally exchanged cards, 
and their relations of amity and courtesy 
were restored. 

Many of Mr. Clay's warmest political 
friends, at the north and west, deeply 
regretted that he should resort to what 
they deemed so immoral and barbarous 
a mode of vindicating his character, as 
that of the duello. But this was soon 
forgotten, and his political career continued 
to be one of great brilliancy and power. 
He soon succeeded General John Adair, 
as senator from Kentucky ; and again, in 
1831, was elected over Richard M. John- 
son, to the same high cost. He was dis- 



appointed, however, in his aspirations for 
the presidency, though great enthusiasm 
was manifested for the ticket which, in 
1831, bore his name at its head, with John 
Sergeant for vice-president. The other 
political duels which have excited great 
interest in the public mind, during the 
century, were those of Lee and Laurens, 
Cadwallader and Conway, Guinnett and 
Mcintosh, Hamilton and Burr, DeWitt 
Clinton and Swartwout, Cilley and Graves, 
Broderick and Terry. General Jackson 
and Colonel Benton were also parties to 
several duels, the former killing Mr. 
Dickinson, and the latter a Air. Lucas. 



XXV. 

THE "GREAT DEBATE" BETWEEN WEBSTER AND 
HAYNE, IX COXGRESS.— 1830. 



Vital Constitutional Issues Discussed — Unsurpassed Power and Splendor of Senatorial Eloquence. — 
Webster's Speech Acknowledged to be tlie Grandest Forensic Achievement in the Whole Range of 
Modern Parliamentary Efforts. — Golden Age of American Oratory.— Unprec"'''"ifed Interest and 
Excitement Produced in the Public Mind. — No American Debate Comparable with This. — Known as 
the "Battle of the Giants " — Inflamed Feeling at the South. — Hayne's Brilliant Championship. — His 
Speech Against the North. — Profound Impression Created — Its Dash, Assurance, Severity — Bitter 
and Sweeping Charges. — His Opponents Wonder-Struck. — Webster has the Floor to Reply. — An 
Ever-Memorable Day. — Intense Anxiety to Hear Him. — Magnificent Personal Appearance. — His 
Exordium, all Hearts Enchained. — Immense Intellectual Range — Copious and Crushing Logic. — 
Accumulative Grandeur of Thought. — Thrilling Apostrophe to the Union. — The Serious, Comic, 
Pathetic, etc — Hayne's Argument Demolished. — Reception Accorded the Speech. — Rival Orators; 
Pleasant Courtesies. 



" It has been my fortune to hear some of the ablest apeechea of the greatest living orators on both aides of the water, but I must conftes 1 
never heard anvthinz wiiich so completelv realized my coneeptioQ of what Demoetheoee was when be delivered the Oration for the Crown." 

— EUWAED EVEKKIT ON WeBSTER'S SpEECH. 




jHE remark made by a distinguished public man, 
that to have heard the great national debate in the 
senate of the United States, between Webster of 
Massachusetts and Hayne of South Carolina, "con- 
stituted an era in a man's life," is an expression 
worthy of being expanded into the far more com- 
mensurate statement that the debate in question 
constituted an era of far-reaching influence and 
importance, in the political history of the nation. 
It was, indeed, the greatest forensic exhibition this 
country has ever witnessed, and, though nearly 
half a century has elapsed since its occurrence, and the immediate participants and 
their official contemporaries have, almost all of them, long since passed to the sphere of 
another existence, the occasion still furnishes, and will continue to furnisli to future 
generations, one of the most instructive chapters in the annals of national affairs. Well 
has the debate been called ' the battle of the giants' 

Fortunately for those who would wish, in after time, to inform themselves with ref- 
erence to the principles involved and the chief actors engaged in this great debate, 



THE VICTOR S WREATH. 



206 



DEBATE BETWEEN WEBSTER AND HAYNE. 



the memorials of the occasion furnished 
by Mr. March, and, subsequently, by Mr. 
Lanin in, Dr. Tefft, Louis Gaylord Clark, 
Edward Everett, and others, leave nothing 
to be supplied. Mr. March's notes are 
adoi)ted by Mr. Everett, in his memoirs of 
Mr. Webster, and, in an abridged form, 
are given below, in connection with the 
perspicuous statements of Tefft and others 
relating to the general issue. The speech 
was also reported by Mr. Joseph Gales, 
at the request of Judge Burnett, of Ohio, 
and other senators. On canvas, too, Hea- 
ley, the master-painter, lias commem- 
orated in an enduring manner, the orator 
and the occasion. 

The subject of discussion before the 
senate, in the persons of these two intel- 
lectual gladiators, grew out of a resolution 
brought forward by Senator Foot, of Con- 
necticut, just at the close of the previous 
year, with a view to some arrangement 
concerning the sale of the j)ublic lands. 
But this immediate question was soon lost 
sight of in the discussion of a great, vital 
principle of constitutional law, namely : 
the relative powers of the states and the 
national government. Upon this, Mr. 
Benton and Mr. Hayne addressed the 
senate, condemning the policy of the east- 
ern states, as illiberal toward the west. 
Mr. Webster replied, in vindication of 
Nevk' England and of the policy of the 
government. It was then that Mr. Hayne 
made his attack — sudden, unexpected, and 
certainly unexampled, — on Mr. Webster 
personally, upon Massachusetts and the 
other northern states politically, and upon 
the constitution itself; in respect to the 
latter, Mr. Hayne taking the position, that 
it is constitutional to interrupt the admin- 
istration of the constitution itself, in the 
hands of those who are chosen and sworn 
to administer it, by the direct interference, 
in form of law, of the states, in virtue of 
their sovereign capacity. All of these 
points were handled by Mr. Hayne with 
that rhetorical brilliancj' and power which 
characterized him as the oratorical cham- 
pion of the south, on the floor of the 
senate ; and it is not saying too much, 



that the speech produced a profound im- 
pression. 

Air. Hayne's great effort appeared to be 
the result of premeditation, concert and 
arrangement. He selected his own time, 
and that, too, peculiarly inconvenient to 
Mr. Webster, for, at that moment, the 
supreme court were proceeding in the 
hearing of a cause of great importance, in 
which he was a leading counsel. For this 
reason, lie requested, through a friend, a 
postjjonement of the debate ; Mr. Hayne 
objected, however, and the request was 
refused. The time, the matter, and the 
manner, indicated that the attack was 
made with a design to crush so formidable 
a political opponent as Mr. Webster had 
become. To this end, jiersonal history, 
the annals of New England and of the 
federal party, were ransacked for materi- 
als. It was attempted, with the usual 
partisan unfairness of political harangue?, 
to make him responsible, not only fr. what 
was his own, but for the conduct and opin- 
ions of others. All the errors and delin- 
quencies, real or supjiosed, of Massachu- 
setts, and the eastern states, and of the 
federal party, during the war of 1812, and, 
indeed, prior and subsequent to that 
period, were accumulated upon him. 

Thus it was, that Mr. Hajme heralded 
his speech with a bold declaration of war, 
with taunts and threats, vaunting antici- 
pated triumph, as if to paralyze by intimi- 
dation; saying that he would carry the 
war into Africa, until lie had obtained 
indemnity for the past and security for the 
future. It was sujiposed that, as a distm- 
guished representative man, Mr. Webster 
would be driven to defend what was inde- 
fensible, and to uphold what could not be 
sustained, and, as a federalist, to oppose 
the popular resolutions of '98. 

The severe nature of ]\Ir. Hayne's 
charges, the ability with which he brought 
them to bear upon his opponents, his great 
reputation as a brilliant and powerful 
declainier, filled the minds of his friends 
with anticipations of complete triumph. 
For two daj's, Mr. Hayne had the control 
of the floor. The vehemence of his Ian- 



DEBATE BETWEEN WEBSTER AND HAYNE. 



2U7 



guajre and the earnestness of his manner 
gave added force to the excitement of the 
occasion. So fluent and melodious was liis 
elocution, that his cause naturally begat 
sympathy. No one had time to deliberate 
upon his rapid words, or canvass his sweep- 
ing and accumulated statements. The 
dashing nature of the onset ; the assurance, 
almost insolence, of its tone ; the serious 
character and apparent truth of the accu- 
sations, confounded almost every hearer. 
The immediate impression from the speech 
was most assuredly disheartening to the 
cause Mr. Webster upheld. Congratula- 
tions from almost every quarter were show- 
ered upon the speaker. Mr. Benton said, 
in the full senate, that much as Mr. Hayne 
had done before to establish his reputation 
as an orator, a statesman, a patriot, and a 
gallant son of the south, the efforts of that 
day would eclipse and surpass the whole. 
Indeed, the speech was extolled as the 
greatest effort of the time, or of other 
times, — neither Chatham, nor Burke, nor 
Fox, had surpassed it, in their palmiest 
days. 

Satisfaction, however, with the speech, 
even among the friends of the orator, was 
not unanimous. Some of the senators 
knew, for they had felt, Mr. Webster's 
power. They knew the great resources of 
his mind; the immense range of his intel- 
lect; the fertility of his imagination; his 
copious and fatal logic; the scathing sever- 
ity of his sarcasm, aijd his full and electri- 
fying eloquence. Mr. Webster's own 
feelings with reference to the speech were 
freely expressed to his friend, Mr. Everett, 
the evening succeeding Mr. Hayne's clos- 
ing effort. He regarded the speech as an 
entirely unprovoked attack upon the north, 
and, what was of far more importance, as 
an exposition of a system of politics, 
which, in Mr. Webster's opinion, went far 
to change the form of government from 
that which was established by the consti- 
tution, into that which existed under the 
confederation, — if the latter could be called 
a government at all. He stated it to be 
his intention, therefore, to put that theory 
to rest forever, as far as it could be done 



by an argument in the senate-chamber. 
How grandly he did this, is thus vividly 
portrayed by JNIr. March, an eye-witness, 
and whose account has been adopted by all 
historians : 

It was on Tuesdaj', January the twenty- 
sixth, 1830, — a day to be hereafter forever 
memorable in senatorial annals, — that the 
senate resumed the consideration of Foot's 
resolution. There was never before in the 
city, an occasion of so much excitement. 
To witness this great intellectual contest, 
multitudes of strangers had for two or 




ROBERT V. UAVNE. 



three days previous been rushing into the 
city, and the hotels overflowed. As early 
as nine o'clock in the morning, crowds 
poured into the capitol, in hot haste ; at 
twelve o'clock, the hour of meeting, the 
senate-chamber, — its galleries, floor, and 
even the lobbies,— was tilled to its utmost 
capacity. The very stairways were dark 
with men, who hung on to one another, 
like bees in a swarm. 

The house of representatives was early 
deserted. An adjournment wouhl hardly 
have made it emptier. The speaker, it is 
true, retained his chair, but no business of 
moment was, or could be, attended to. 
Meniliers all rushed in, to hear Mr. Web- 
ster, and no call of the house, or other par- 
liamentary proceedings, could compel them 
back. The floor of the senate was so 



208 



DEBATE BETWEEN WEBSTER AND HAYNE. 



densely crowded, that persons once in 
could not get out, nor change their posi- 
tion. In the rear of the vice-president's 
chair, the crowd was particularly dense; 
Hon. Dixon H. Lewis, then a representa- 
tive from Alabama, became wedged in 
here. From his enormous size, it was 
impossible for him to move without dis- 
placing a vast portion of the multitude ; 
unfortunatelj^, too, for him, he was 
jammed in directly behind the chair of the 
vice-president, where he could not see, and 
could hardly hear, the speaker. By slow 
and laborious effort — pausing occasionally 
to breathe — he gained one of the windows, 
which, constructed of painted glass, flanked 
the chair of the vice-president on either 
side. Here he paused, unable to make 
more headway. But determined to see 
Mr. Webster, as he spoke, with his knife 
he made a large hole in one of the panes 
of glass. The courtesj' of senators ac- 
corded to the fairer sex room on the floor 
— the most gallant of them, their own 
seats. 

Seldom, if ever, has speaker in this or 
any other country, had more powerful 
incentives to exertion ; a subject, the 
determination of which involved the most 
important interests, and even duration, of 
the republic ; competitors, unequaled in 
reputation, abilit}-, or position ; a name to 
make still more renowned, or lose forever; 
and an audience, comprising not only 
American citizens most eminent in intel- 
lectual greatness, but representatives of 
other nations, where the art of eloquence 
had flourished for ages. 

Mr. Webster perceived, anu felt equal 
to, the destinies of the moment. The very 
greatness of the hazard exhilarated him. 
His spirits rose with the occasion. He 
awaited the time of onset with a stern and 
impatient joy. He felt, like the war-horse 
of the scriptures, who * paweth in the 
valley, and rejoiceth in his strength : who 
goetli on to meet the armed men, — who 
s lyeth among the trumpets, ha, ha ! and 
who smelleth the battle afar off, the thun- 
der of the captains and the shouting.' A 
confidence in his resources, springing from 



no vain estimate of his power, but the 
legitimate offspring of previous severe 
mental discipline, sustained and excited 
him. He had gauged his opponents, his 
subject, and himself. He was, too, at this 
period, in the very prime of manhood. He 
had reached middle age — an era in the life 
of man, when the faculties, physical or 
intellectual, may be supposed to attain 
their fullest organization, and most perfect 
development. Whatever there was in 
him of intellectual energy and vitality, the 
occasion, his full life and high ambition, 
might well bring forth. 

He never rose on an ordinary occasion 
to address an ordinary audience more self- 
possessed. There was no tremulousness in 
his voice nor manner; nothing hurried, 
nothing simulated. The calmness of supe- 
rior strength was visible everywhere ; in 
countenance, voice, and bearing. A deep- 
seated conviction of the extraordinary 
character of the emergencj', and of his 
ability to control it, seemed to possess him 
wholly. If an observer, more than ordi- 
narily keen-sighted, detected at times 
something like exultation in his eye, he 
presumed it sprang from the excitement of 
the moment, and the anticipation of 
victory. 

The anxiet}' to hear the speech was so 
intense, irrepressible, and universal, that 
no sooner had the vice-president assumed 
the chair, than a motion was made and 
unanimously carried, to postpone the ordi- 
nary preliminaries of senatorial action, and 
to take up immediately the consideration 
of the resolution. 

Mr. Webster rose and addressed the 
senate. His exordium is known by heart 
everj'where : " Mr. President, when the 
mariner has been tossed, for many days, in 
thick weather, and on an unknown sea, he 
naturally avails himself of the first pause 
in the storm, the earliest glance of the 
sun, to take his latitude, and ascertain how 
far the elements have driven him from his 
true course. Let us imitate this prudence ; 
and before we float further, on the waves 
of this debate, refer to the point from 
which we departed, that we may, at least, 



DEBATE BETWEEN WEBSTER AND HAYNE. 



20y 



be able to form some conjecture where we 
now are. I ask for the reading of the res- 
olution." Calm, resolute, impressive, was 
this opening utterance. 

There wanted no more to enchain the 
attention. There was a sjjontaneous, 
though silent, expression of eager approba^ 
tion, as the orator concluded these opening 
remarks. And while the clerk read the 
resolution, many attempted the impossibil- 
ity of getting nearer the speaker. Every 
head was inclined closer towards him, 
every ear turned in the direction of his 
voice — and that deep, sudden, mysterious 
silence followed, which always attends full- 
ness of emotion. From the sea of up- 
turned faces before him, the orator beheld 
his thoughts reflected as from a mirror. 
The varying countenance, the suffused eye, 
the earnest smile, and ever-attentive look, 
assured him of the intense interest excited. 
If, among his hearers, there were those 
who affected at first an indifference to his 
glowing thoughts and fervent periods, the 
difficult mask was soon laid aside, and 
profound, undisguised, devoted attention 




DANIEL WEBSTER. 

followed. In truth, all, sooner or later, 
vc/lmitarily, or in spite of themselves, were 
wholly carried away by the spell of such 
unexampled forensic eloquence. 

Those who had doubted Mr. Webster's 
ability to cope with and overcome his 



opponents were fully satisfied of their 
error before he had proceeded far in his 
speech. Their fears soon took another 
direction. When they heard his sentences 
of powerful thought, towering in accumu- 
lative grandeur, one above the other, as 
if the orator strove, Titan-like, to reach 
the very heavens themselves, they were 
giddy with an apprehension that he would 
break down in his flight. They dared not 
believe, that genius, learning, — any intel- 
lectual endowment, however uncommon, 
that was simply mortal, — could sustain 
itself long in a career seemingly so peril- 
ous. They feared an Icarian fall. 

No one, surely, could ever forget, who 
was present to hear, the tremendous — the 
awful — burst of eloquence with which the 
orator apostrophized the old Bay State 
which Mr. Hayue had so derided, or the 
tones of deep pathos in which her defense 
was pronounced : " Mr. President, I shall 
enter on no encomium upon Massachusetts. 
There she is — behold her and judge for 
yourselves. There is her history; the 
world knows it by heart. The past, at 
least, is secure. There is Boston, and 
Concord, and Lexington, and Bunker Hill, 
— and there they will remain forever. 
The bones of her sons, falling in the great 
struggle for independence, now lie min- 
gled with the soil of every state, from New 
England to Georgia; and there they will 
lie forever. And, sir, where American 
liberty raised its first voice, and where its 
youth was nurtured and sustained, there it 
still lives, in the strength of its manhood 
and full of its original spirit. If discord 
and disunion shall wound it — if party- 
strife and blind ambition shall hawk at 
and tear it — if folly and madness — if uneas- 
iness under salutary and necessary re- 
straint, — shall succeed to separate it from 
that Union, bj' which alone its existence 
is made sure, it will stand, in the end, by 
the side of that cradle in which its infancy 
was rocked : it will stretch fortJi its arm 
with whatever of vigor it may still retain, 
over the friends who gather round it ; and 
it will fall at last, if fall it must, amidst 
the proudest monuments of its own glory. 



210 



DEBATE BETWEEN WEBSTER AND HAYNE. 



and on the very sjiot of its origin." No 
New EnghuiJ heart but throbbed with 
vehement, absorbed, irrepressible emotion, 
as Mr. Webster tluis dwelt upon New 
England sufferings, New England strug- 
gles, and New England triumphs, during 
the war of the revolution. There was 
scarcely a dry eye in the senate ; all hearts 
were overcome ; grave judges, and men 
grown old in dignified life, turned aside 
their heads, to conceal the evidences of 
their emotion. 

In one corner of the gallery was clus- 
tered a group of Massachusetts men. 
They had hung from the first moment 
upon the words of the speaker, with feel- 
ings variousl}' but always warmly excited, 
deepening in intensity as he jiroceeded. 
At first, while the orator was going 
through liis exordium, they lield their 
breath and lii<l their faces, mindful of the 
fierce attack upon him and New England, 
and the fearful odds against any one 
standing up as a champion of the latter ; 
as he went deeper into his speech, they 
lelt easier ; when he turned Hayne's flank 
on " Banquo's ghost" — that famous rhe- 
torical figure used by the South Carolinian, 
— they breathed freer and fuller. But 
anon, as he alluded to Massachusetts, their 
feelings were strained to the utmost ten- 
sion ; and when the senator, concluding 
his passages upon the land of their birth, 
turned, intentionally or otherwise, his 
burning eye upon them, tears were falling 
like rain adown their cheeks. 

No one who was not present can under- 
stand the excitement of the scene. No 
one, who was, can give an adequate de- 
scription of it. No word-painting can 
convey the deep, intense enthusiasm, — the 
reverential attention, of that vast assem- 
bly, — nor limner transfer to canvas their 
earnest, eager, awe-struck countenances. 
Though language were as subtle and flex- 
ible as thought, it still would be impossi- 
ble to represent the full idea of the occa- 
sion. 

Much of the instantaneous effect of the 
speech arose, of course, from the orator's 
delivery — the tones of his voice, his coun- 



tenance, and manner. These die mostly 
with the occasion ; they can only be 
described in general terms. '• Of the 
e fectiveuess of Mr. Webster's manner, in 
many parts," says Mr. Everett, himself 
almost without a peer, as an orator, '■ it 
would be in vain to attempt to give any 
one not present the faintest idea. It has 
been my fortune to hear some of the ablest 
speeches of the greatest living orators on 
both sides of the water, but I must confess 
I never heard anything which so caiu- 
pletely realized my conception of what 
Demosthenes was when he delivered the 
Oration for the Crown." There could be 
no higher praise than this. Kean nor 
Kemble, nor any other masterly delineator 
of the human passions, ever produced a 
more powerful impression upon an audi- 
ence, or swayed so completely their hearts. 

No one ever looked the orator, as he did, 
— in form and feature how like a god ! His 
countenance spake no less audibly than his 
words. His manner gave new force to his 
language. As he stood swaj'ing his right 
arm, like a huge tilt-hammer, up and 
down, his swarthy countenance lighted up 
with excitement, he appeared amid the 
smoke, the fire, the thunder of his elo- 
quence, like Vulcan in his armory forging 
thoughts for the gods ! Time had not 
thinned nor bleached his hair; it was as 
dark as the raven's plumage, surmounting 
his massive brow in ample lolds. His eye, 
always dark and deep-set, enkindled by 
some glowing thought, shone from beneath 
his somber, overhanging brow like lights, 
in the blackness of night, from a sepul- 
chre. No one understood, better than Mr. 
Webster, tne philosophy of dress ; — what a 
powerful auxiliary it is to speech and 
manner, when harmonizing with them. 
On this occasion he appeared in a blue 
coat, a buff vest, black pants, and white 
cravat, a costume strikingly in keeping 
with his face and expression. 

The human face never wore an expres- 
sion of more withering, relentless scorn, 
than when the orator replied to Hayne's 
allusion to the " murdered coalition," — a 
piece of stale political trumpery, well 



DEBATE BETWEEN WEBSTER AND HAYNE. 



21i 



understood at that day. " It is,'' said Mr. 
Webster, "the very cast-off slough of a 
polluted and shameless press. Incapable 
of further mischief, it lies in the sewer, 
lifeless and despised. It is not now, sir, 
in the power of the honorable member to 
give it dignity or decency, by attempting 
to elevate it, and introduce it into the 
senate. He cannot change it from what 
it is — an object of general disgust and 
scorn. On the contrary, the contact, if he 
choose to touch it, is more likely to drag 
him down, down to the place where it lies 
itself ! " He looked, as he spoke these 
words, as if the thing he alluded to was 
too mean for scorn itself, and the shai-p, 
stinging enunciation, made the words still 
more scathing. The audience seemed 
relieved, — so crushing was the expression 
of his face which they held on to, as 'twere, 
spell-bound, — when he turned to other 
topics. 

But the good-natured yet provoking 
irony with which he described the imagin- 
ary though life-like scene of direct collision 
between the marshaled army of South 
Carolina under General Hayne on tlie one 
side, and the officers of the United States 
on the other, nettled his opponent even 
more than his severer satire; it seemed so 
ridiculously true. AVith his true Southern 
Wood, Hayne inquired, with some degree 
of emotion, if the gentleman from Massa- 
chusetts intended any personal imputation 
by such remarks ? To which Mr. Web- 
ster replied, with perfect good humor, 
" Assuredly not — just the reverse ! " 

The variety of incident during the 
speech, and the rapid fluctuation of pas- 
sions, kept the audience in continual 
expectation, and ceaseless agitation. The 
speech was a complete drama of serious, 
comic, and pathetic scenes ; and thougli a 
large iX)rtion of it was strictly argumenta- 
tive — an exposition of constitutional law, 
— yet, grave as such portion necessarily 
must be, severely logical, and abounding 
in no fancy or episode, it engrossed, 
throughout, undivided attention. 

The swell of his voice and its solemn 
roll struck upon the ears of the enraptured 



audience, in deep and thrilling cadence, as 
waves upon the shore of the far-resound- 
ing sea. The Miltonic grandeur of his 
words was the fit expression of his great 
thoughts, and raised his hearers up to his 
theme ; and his voice, exerted to its utmost 
power, penetrated every recess or corner 
of the senate — j)enetrated even the ante- 
rooms and stairways, as, in closing, he 
pronounced in deepest tones of pathos 
these words of solemn significance : 
"When my eyes shall be turned to behold, 
for the last time, the sun in heaven, may 
I not see him shining on the broken and 
dishonored fragments of a once glorious 
Union ; on states dissevered, discordant, 
belligerent ; on a land rent with civil 
feuds, or drenched, it may be, in fraternal 
blood! Let their last feeble and lingering 
glance rather behold the gorgeous ensign 
of the republic, now known and honored 
throughout the earth, still full high 
advanced, its arms and trophies streaming 
in their original luster, not a stripe erased 
nor polluted, not a single star obscured, 
bearing for its motto no such miserable 
interrogatory as, "What is all this worth ?" 
— lior those other words of delusion and 
folly, " Liberty first and Union after- 
wards : " but everywhere, spread all over 
in characters of living light, blazing on all 
its ample folds, as they float over the sea 
and over the land, and in every wind 
under the whole heavens, that other senti- 
ment, dear to every American heart, 
"Liberty and Union, now and for- 
ever, ONE AND INSEPARABLE ! " 

The speech was over, but the tones of 
the orator still lingered upon the ear, and 
the audience, unconscious of the close, 
retained their positions. Everywhere 
around seemed forgetfulness of all but the 
orator's presence and words. There never 
was a deeper stillness ; silence could almost 
have heard itself, it was so supernaturally 
still. The feeling was too overpowering, 
to allow expression by voice or hand. It 
was as if one was in a trance, all motion 
par.alyzed. But the descending hammer 
of the chair awoke them, with a start ; and 
with one universal, long drawn, deep 



212 



DEBATE BETWEEN WEBSTER AND HAYNE. 




WEDSTEU'S r.EPLT TO HAVNE. 



breath, with which the overcharged heart 
see]c3 relief, the crowded assembly broke 
up and departed. 

New England men walked down Penn- 
sylvania avenue that daj', after the speech, 
with a firmer step and bolder air — ' j^ride 
in their port, defiance in their ej-e.' They 
devoured the way in their stride. They 
looked every one in the face they met, 
fearing no contradiction. They swarmed 
in the streets, having become miraculously 
multitudinous. They clustered in parties 
and fought the scene over one hundred 
times that night. Their elation was 
the greater, by reaction. Not one of 
them but felt he had gained a j)ersonal 
victory. 

In the evening, General Jackson held a 
presidential levee at the White House. It 
was known, in advance, that Mr. Webster 
would attend it, and hardly had the hos- 
pitable doors of the mansion been thrown 
open, when the crowd that had filled the 
senate-chamber in the morning rushed in 



and occupied the rooms, leaving a vast 
and increasing crowd at the entrance. 
On all previous occasions, the general 
himself had been the observed of all 
observers. His receptions were always 
gladly attended by large numbers ; and 
to these he himself was always the chief 
object of attraction, on account of his 
great military and personal reputation, 
official position, gallant bearing, and 
courteous manners. 

But on this occasion, the room in which 
he received his company was deserted, as 
soon as courtesj' to the president permitted. 
Mr. Webster was in the East Room, and 
thither the whole mass hurried. He stood 
almost in the center of the room, pressed 
upon by surging crowds, eager to pay him 
deference. Hayne, too, was there, and, with 
others, went up and complimented Mr. Web- 
ster on his brilliant effort. In a subsequent 
meeting between the two rival debaters, 
AVebster challenged Hayne to drink a glass 
of wine with him, saying, as he did so, — 



DEBATE BETWEEN WEBSTER AND HAYNE. 



213 



" General Hayne, I driuk to j-our Loaltli, 
and I hope that j'ou may live a thousand 
years." 

" I shall not live more than one hundred, 
if 3"ou make another such speech," Hayne 
replied. 

To this day, Webster's speech is re- 
garded as the masterpiece of modern elo- 
quence, — unsurpassed by even the might- 
iest efforts of Pitt, Fox, or Burke, — a 
matchless intellectual achievement and 
complete forensic triumph. It was to this 
great and triumphant effort, that Mr. 
Webster's subsequent matchless fame as a 
statesman was due; and, that he was 
equal to comprehending the true principles 
of international, as well as those of inter- 
nal, justice and policy, is abundantlj^ 
proved by his diplomacy with Great Brit- 
ain, to which the highest credit is awarded 
by Eliot, the accomplished historian, in his 
concise and admirable review of j^ublic 
affairs during this period. An insurrec- 
tion (says Mr. Eliot) having broken out 
in Canada, it was immediately supported 
by American parties, the insurgents being 
in favor of reform or independence. One 
of these American parties, in company 
with some Canadian refugees, after pillag- 
ing the New York arsenals, seized upon 
Navj' Island, a British possession in the 
Niagara river. Mr. Marcy was governor 
of New York at this time. The steamer 
Caroline, engaged in bringing over men, 
arms, and stores to the island, was de- 
stroyed, though at the time on the Ameri- 
can shore, by a Britsh detachment. The 
deed was instantly avowed by the minister 
of Great Britain at Washington as an act 
of self-defense on the British side. One 
of the chief characters in these exciting 
movements was William M'Kenzie. In 
November, 1840, one Alexander M'Leod, 



sheriff of Niagara, in Canada, and as such 
a participator in the destruction of the 
Caroline, was arrested in New York on 
the charge of murder, an American having 
lost his life when the steamer was de- 
stroyed. The British government de- 
manded his release, in doing which they 
were sustained by the United States 
administration, on the ground that M'Leod 
was but an agent or soldier of Great Brit- 
ain. But the authorities of New York 
held fast to their prisoner, and brought 
him to trial. Had harm come to him, his 
government stood pledged to declare war ; 
but he was acquitted for want of proof. 
The release of M'Leod did not, however, 
settle the affair of the Caroline ; this still 
remained. There were, or there had been, 
other difficulties also, — namelj', upon the 
Maine frontier, where the boundary-line 
had never yet been run. Collisions took 
place, between the Maine militia and the 
British troops, and others had been but 
just i>revented. On Mr. Webster's acces- 
sion to the state department, our govern- 
ment proposed, through Mr. Webster, to 
the British cabinet, to take up the north- 
eastern boundary question. The offer was 
accepted by the British, who sent, as spe- 
cial envoy. Lord Ashburton, to whom was 
committed the boundary and other contro- 
verted questions. The consultations be- 
tween Mr. Webster and Lord Ashburton 
led to a treaty which settled the boundary, 
put down the claim to visit our vessels, 
and provided for the mutual surrender of 
fugitives from justice. For the affair of 
the Caroline, an apology was made by 
Great Britain. 

The fame of Mr. Webster, as an 
orator, a statesman, and an expounder of 
public law, thus became world-wide and 
unrivaled. 



XXVI. 

RISE AXD PROGRESS OF THE MORMONS, OR "LATTER- 
DAY SAINTS," UNDER JOSEPH SMITH, THE 
"PROPHET OF THE LORD."— 1830. 



His Assumed Discovery of the Golden Plates of a New Bible. — Apostles Sent Forth anfl Converts 
Obtained in All Parts of tlie World. — Founding and Destruction of Nauvoo, the " City of Zion." — 
Smith's Character. — Uemoval to Utah, the "Promised Land." — Smith the "Mohammed 
of the West." — His Origin and Repute. — Pretended Supernatural Interviews. — Revela- 
tions of Divine Records. — Finds and Translates Them. — Secret History of this Transaction. 
— Pronounced to be a Fraud. — Teachings of the Mormon Bible. — Smith Claims to be Inspired — 
Announced as a Second Savior. — Organization of the Firsi Church. — Strange Title Adopted. — 
Smith's Great Personal Influence. — Rapid Increase of the Sect — Settlement at the West. — 
Violent Opposition to Them — Outrages, Assassinations, Riots. — Polygamy "Divinely" Author- 
ized. — Smith in Jail as a Criminal. — Is Shot Dead by a Furious Mob. — Brigham Young His Suc- 
cessor. — The " New Jerusalem." 



— " Anfl with a piece nf scripture 
Tell flieiii.— thai (ii>d bids 119 ilit p.)...l for evil. 

And Ihua 1 clothe my iia^ed villainy 
■With .hi odd mrli. ftol'n forth of llcilv Writ. 
Aiidbcuinuaaiut, wtieii mustXpluy the devil." 




F the many oracular predictions indulged in hy trans- Atlantic wiseacres, 
concerning the future of American history, not one of them has had 
.so accurate and remarkable a fulfillment as that made by Robert 
Southej', the great English poet and historian, in 1829, and which 
ran as follows : " The next Aaron Burr who seeks to carve 
a kingdom for himself out of the overgrown territories of 
the Union, may discern that fanaticism is the most effective 
weapon with which ambition can arm itself; that the way for 
both is prepared by that immorality which the want of religion naturally and 
necessarily induces, and that camp-meetings may be very well directed to forward the 
designs of military prophets. Were there another IMohammed to arise, there is no 
part o£ the world where he would find more scope or fairer opportunity than in that 
part of the Anglo-American Union into which the older states continuallj' discharge the 
restless part of their population, leaving laws and Gospel to overtake it if they can, for 
in the march of modern civilization both are left behind." This ]>rophecy was uttered 
long before even the name of 'Mormon ' had been heard in the west, and, bating the 
hermit-iioet's very natural fling at camp-meetings, and his English cant about American 
immorality, is worthy of a seer. 



RISE AJSTD PROGRESS OF THE MORMONS. 



215 



Joseph Smith, the Mohammed of the 
"West, — founder of the sect called Mor- 
inoiis, or Latter-Day Saints, — was born in 
Sharon, Vermont, December 23, ISOiJ, and 
met a violent death at Carthage, Illinois, 
in his thirty-ninth year. In 1815, he re- 
moved with his father to Palmyra, New 
York, and here they sustained an unen- 
viable reputation, for idleness, intemper- 
ance, dishonest}-, and other immoralities. 
Joseph was especiall}- obnoxious in these 
respects ; and, having never received any 
education, he could scarcely so much as 
read and write when he had attained to 
manhood, and whatever he put forth to the 
world, under his own name, was written 
or composed by another hand. 

According to his own account of him- 
self, liis mind was at a very early age 
exercised religiously, and, on the evening 
of September 21st, when he was but 
eighteen years old, the angel Moroni — a 
glorious being from Heaven — appeared 
before him, as a messenger from the 
Lord, instructing him in the secret jjur- 
poses of the Most High, and announcing 
the divine will to be that he. Smith, 
should become a spiritual leader and com- 
mander to the nations of the earth. He 
was also told that there was a bundle of 
golden or metallic plates deposited in a 
hill in Manchester, New York (to which 
place Smith had removed in 1819), whi h 
plates contained some lost biblical records, 
and with which were two transparent 
stones, set in the rim of a bow of silver, 
which were anciently known as the Urim 
and Thummim; by looking through these 
stones, he could see the strange characters 
on the plates translated into plain English. 
These plates were about eight inches long 
by seven wide, and a little thinner than 
ordinary tin, and were bound together by 
three rings running through the whole. 
Altogether they were about six inches 
thick, and were neatly engraved on each 
side with hierogh'phics in a language 
called the Reformed Egyptian, not then 
known on the earth. From these plates, 
Smith, sitting behind a blanket hung 
across the room to keej) the sacred records 



from profane eyes, read off, through the 
transparent stones, the "Book of Mor- 
mon," or Golden Bible, to Oliver Cowder}', 
who wrote it down as Smith read it. It 
was jn-inted in 1830, in a volume of 
several hundred pages. Appended to it 
was a statement .signed l)y Oliver Cow- 
dery, David AYliitmer, and Martin Harris, 
who had become professed believers in 
Smith's supernatural pretensions, and are 
called by the Mormons, the "three wit- 
nesses." In after years, however, these 
witnesses quarreled with Smith, renounced 
Mormonism, and avowed the falsity of 
their testimonj'. 

It is charged by the opponents of 
Smith, that the book in question was not 
the production of Smith, in anj- wise, but 
of the Rev. Solomon Spalding, who wrote 
it as a sort of romance, and that it was 
seen and stolen by Sidney Rigdon, after- 
wards Smith's right-hand man. Spalding 
had become involved in his pecuniary 
affairs, and wrote this work, intending to 
have it printed and publi.shed, and with 
the proceeds to pay his debts. Tlie book 
was entitled "Manuscript Found." It 
was an historical romance of the first set- 
tlers of America, endeavoring to show that 
the American Indians are the descendants 
of the Jews or the lost tribes. It gave a 
detailed account of their journey from 
Jerusalem, by land and sea, till they 
arrived in America under the command of 
Nephi and Lehi. They afterward had 
quarrels and contentions, and sej)arated 
into two distinct nations, one of which he 
denominated Nephites and the other Lam- 
anites. Cruel and bloody wars ensued, in 
which great multitudes were slain. They 
buried their dead in large heaps, which 
caused the mounds, so common in this 
country. Their arts, sciences, and civiliz- 
ation were brought into view, in order to 
account for all the curious antiquities, 
found in various parts of North and South 
America. Abundant testimonj' was ad- 
duced from the wife, brother, and business 
partner of Spalding, to whom portions of 
the work had been read while it was in 
course of preparation, proving that the 



216 



RISE AND PROGEESS OF THE MORMONS. 



Mormon bible was made up of identically 
the same matter, combined with portions 
of the true Scripture. Mr. Spalding's 
business partner, Mr. Miller, testified on 
oath as follows : 

'I have recently examined the Book of 
Mormon, and find in it the writings of 
Solomon Spalding, from beginning to end, 
but mixed up with Scripture and other 
religious matter, which I did not meet in 
the 'Manuscript Found.' Many of the 
passages in the Mormon book are verbatim 
from Spalding, and others in part. The 
names of Nephi, Lehi, Moroni, and in 
fact all the principal names, are brought 
fresh to my recollection by the gold bible.' 

Mr. Spalding wrote his manuscript in 
1812; he afterwards removed to Pitts- 
burg, Pennsylvania, where he died in 
1816. His manuscript remained in the 
printing-office a long time, and in this 
ofiice Rigdon was a workman. There is 
the best evidence, therefore, that the 
so-called Mormon bible had for its basis 
the matter contained in Mr. Spalding's 
work. Rigdon, however, had at first no 
open connection with Smith, and was con- 
verted by a special mission sent into his 
neighborhood in 1830. From the time of 
Rigdon's conversion, the progress of Mor- 
monism was wonderfully rapid, he being a 
man of more than common cunning and 
capacity. It may be of interest here to 
state, that a transcript on paper, of one of 
the golden plates, having been submitted 
to Prof. Charles Anthon, of New York, 
for his inspection, that eminent scholar 
gave, as his statement, that the paper was 
in fact a kind of singular scroll, consisting 
of all kinds of crooked characters, disposed 
in columns, and had evidently been pre- 
pared by some person who had before him 
at the time a book containing various 
alphabets, Greek, and Hebrew letters, 
crosses and flourishes ; Roman letters, in- 
verted or placed sideways, were arranged 
and placed in perpendicular columns ; and 
the whole ended in a rude delineation of 
a circle, divided into various compartments, 
decked with various strange marks, and 
evidentlv conied after the Mexican calen- 



dar given by Humboldt, but copied in 
such a way as not to betray the source. 

The Mormon theology teaches that 
there is one God, the Eternal Father, his 
son, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Ghost ; 
that men will be punished for their own 
sins, and not for Adam's transgressions ; 
that through the atonement of Christ, all 
mankind may be saved by obedience to 
the laws and ordinances of the gospel, 
these ordinances being faith in the 
Lord Jesus, repentance, baptism by im- 
mersion for the remission of sins, lay- 
ing on of hands by the gift of the Holy 
Ghost, and the Lord's Supper ; that man 
must be called of God by inspiration, and 




by laying on of hands from those who 
are duly commissioned to preach the gospel 
and administer the ordinances thereof ; 
that the same organization that existed 
in the primitive church, viz., apostles, 
prophets, pastors, evangelists, etc., should 
be maintained now ; that the powers 
and gifts of faith, discerning of spirits, 
prophecy, revelations, visions, healing, 
tongues, and the interpretation of tongues, 
still exist ; that the word of God is 
recorded in the Bible, and in the Book of 
Mormon, and in all other good books ; 
that there are now being revealed, and 
will continue to be revealed, many more 
great and important things pertaining to 
the kingdom of God and Messiah's second 
coming; that there is to be a literal 
gathering of Israel, and the restoration of 
the ten tribes ; that Zion will be estab- 



EISE AND PROGRESS OF THE MORMONS. 



217 



lished upon the western continent ; that 
Christ will reign personally upon the 
earth a thousand years, and the earth 
will be renewed and receive its paradisiacal 
glory ; that there is to be a literal resur- 
rection of the body, and that the rest 
of the dead live not again until tlie 
thousand years have expired; that the 
privilege belongs to all, of unmolested 
worship of God, according to the dictates 
of conscience ; that all persons are to be 
subject to kings, queens, presidents, rulers, 
and magistrates, in obej'ing, honoring, and 
sustaining the law ; that God, having be- 
come nearly lost to man, revived his work, 
by revealing himself to Joseph Smith, and 
conferring upon him the keys of the ever- 
lasting priesthood, thus making him the 
mediator of a new dispensation, which is 
immediately to precede the second coming 
of Christ ; that all those who recognize the 
divine authority of Smith, and are bap- 
tized by one having authority, are the 
chosen people of God, who are to intro- 
duce the millennium, and to reign with 
Christ, on the earth, a thousand years. The 
doctrine of direct revelation from Heaven 
was at first applied in a general sense, and 
any one firm in the faith, and who stood 
high in the church, received visions and 
revelations. But this soon became trouble- 
some, — the revelations often clashed with 
each other and led to many annoyances, 
and the power of receiving revelations 
was therefore, in course of time, confined 
to the presidency, in whom the supreme 
authority of the church rests. This presi- 
dency consists of the president and his 
two counselors ; the First President is, 
however, supreme, and there is no resist- 
ance to his decrees. Next in authority in 
the church is the apostolic college, which 
is composed of twelve apostles, who form 
a kind of ecclesiastical senate, but a por- 
tion of them are generally on missions, 
taking charge of the different branches of 
the church in other parts of the world. 
After these come the high priests, who, 
together with the elders, compose the 
body politic of the church, whose duty it 
is to carry out and enforce its decrees and 



regulations. These high priests and elders 
are divided into societies, called quorums 
of seventies, and every quorum preserves 
on its records a complete genealon-y of 
each of its members. 

Among the dignitaries of the church, 
the patriarch stands eminent. He holds 
his office for life; all other stations are 
filled with candidates nominated by the 
presidency and elected annually in con- 
vention by the body of the church. Th« 
bishops also are conspicuous and important 
officers, for it is their duty to collect the 
tithing, to inspect once a week every 
family in their ward or district, and to 
examine strictly into their temporal and 
spiritual affairs. In order to do this more 
thoroughly, each bishop is assisted by two 
counselors. The bishop also adjudicates 
and settles all difficulties occurring be- 
tween persons residing in his ward, though 
from his decision an appeal can be made 
to the high council. This is a tribunal 
consisting of fifteen men selected from 
among the high priests, twelve of whom 
sit as jurors and hear the testimony of 
witnesses in the case, and then by voting 
make a decision — a majority on one side 
or the other deciding the question ; the 
remaining three, as judges, render judg- 
ment as to the costs or punishment. From 
this court the only appeal is to the presi- 
dencj'. 

The first regularly constituted church 
of the Mormon faith was organized in 
Manchester, N. Y., April sixth, 1830, and 
from this time and event dates the Mor- 
mon era. It began with six members or 
elders being ordained, viz., Joseph Smith, 
sen., Hyrum Smith, Joseph Smitb, jr., 
Samuel Smith, Oliver Cowdery, Joseph 
Knight. The sacrament was adminis- 
tered, and hands were laid on for the gift 
of the Holy Ghost on this first occasion in 
the church. The first public discourse 
was preached by Cowdery, setting forth 
the principles of the gospel as revealed to 
Smith, April eleventh ; and during the 
same month the first miracle was per- 
formed, "by the power of God," in Coles- 
viUe, N. Y. 



218 



RISE AND PllOGEESS OF THE MORMONS. 



On the first of June, 1830, tlie first con- 
ference of the churcli was held at Fayette, 
N. Y., and soon after, Messrs. Pratt and 
Rigdon united publicly with the order. 
Meanwhile, converts multiplied rajiidlj'. 

Early in 1831, Smith set out for Kirt- 
land, Ohio, which, for a time, became the 
chief city of his followers. The elders 
soon received command to go forth in pairs 
and preach, the Melchizedek or sujjerior 
priesthood being first conferred upon them 
in June. A considerable body of Mor- 
mons transferred themselves to Jackson 
county, Missouri, in the summer of this 
year. So rapidly did their numbers aug- 
ment in this region, that the older settlers 
became alarmed, and held public meetings 
protesting against the continuance of the 
sect in their neighborhood. Among the 
resolutions passed at these meetings was 
one requiring the Mormon paper to be 
stopped, but, as this was not immediately 
complied with, the office of the paper was 
destroyed. Finally, they agreed to re- 
move from that county' into Clay county, 
across the Missouri, before doing which, 





however, houses were destroyed, men 
whipped, and some lives were lost on both 
sides. 

These outrages, according to the annals 
given by Perkins, kindled the wrath of 
the pro]ihet at Kirtland, who took steps to 
bring about a great gathering of his 



disciples, and, marshaling them as an 
army, in May, 1834. he startt'd for ]Mis- 
souri, which in due time he reached, but 
with no other result than the transfer of a 
certain jiortion of his followers as per- 
manent residents in a section already too 
full of them. At first, the citizens of 
Clay county were friendly to the perse- 
cuted ; but ere long, trouble grew up, and 
the wanderers were once more forced to 
seek a new home, to insure their safety. 
This home they found in Caldwell count}', 
where, by permission of the neighbors and 
state legislature, they organized a county 
government, the country having been jire- 
viously unsettled. 

In addition to the stirring scenes al- 
ready recorded, some of the more important 
events in the history and continued prog- 
ress of this sect may be stated briefly as 
follows. The j-ear 1832 was distinguished 
\>y the tarring and feathering of Smith 
and Rigdon by a mob, for attempting to 
establish communism, and for alleged dis- 
honorable dealing, forger}', and swindling, 
in connection with the Kirtland Safety 
Society Bank, founded bj' them ; 
the conversion of Mr. Brigham 
Young, and his baptism bj' Eleazer 
Millard, also the baptism of Mr. 
Heber C. Kimball ; and the es- 
tablishment of the first Mormon 
periodical, b}' Mr. W. W. Phelps. 
In 1833, the gift of tongues 
was conferred; the re-tran.slation 
of the bible finished; Bishop 
Partridge became the ecclesias- 
tical head of the church in Zion ; 
the 'Missouri Enquirer' was es- 
tablished by Messrs. Davis and 
Kelley. At a conference of 
elders in Kirtland, May 3, 1834, 
the body ecclesiastic was first 
named " The Church of Jesus 
Christ of Latter-Day Saints." In 1835, 
a quorum of twelve apostles was organized, 
among whom were Brigham Young and 
H. C. Kimball, the former, being then 
thirty-four years old, assuming the head- 
ship of the apostolic college, and, receiv- 
ing the gift of tongues, was sent on a 



EISE AND PROGRESS OF THE MORMONS. 



219 



missionary tour toward the east. Young 
was so devoted a disciple of Mormonism, 
that he said of Smith, its founder : 

" The doctrine ho teaclies is all I know 
about the matter ; bring anything against 
that, if you can. As to anything el.->e, I 
do not care if he acts like a devil; ho has 
brought forth a doctrine that will save us, 
if we will abide by it. He may get drunk 
every daj^ of his life, sleep with his neigh- 
bor's wife every night, run horses and 
gamble ; I do not care anj'thing about 
that, for I never embrace any man in my 
faith." 

Rigdon was equally bold and lawless ; 
who declared, in behalf of the prophet and 
his followers, in a sermon preached at 
Far West, to a great concourse, 

"We take God and all the holy angels 
to witness tliis day, that we warn all men, 
in the name of Jesus Christ, to come on 
us no more forever. The man, or the set 
of men, who attempts it, does it at the 
expense of their lives. And that mob that 
comes on us to disturb us, it shall be 
between them and us a war of extermina- 
tion, for we will follow them till the last 
drop of their blood is spilled, or else they 
will have to exterminate us. For we will 
carry the seat of war to their own liouses 
and their own families, and one party or 
the other shall be utterly destroyed." 

On the 20th of July, 1S37, Elders Kim- 
ball, Hyde, Richards, Goodson, Russell, 
and Priest Fielding, sailed from New 
York for Liverpool, to preach and propa- 
gate Mormonism, and proselytes multi- 
plied, especially in northern Europe, so 
plausibly was Smith's imposture set be- 
fore them ; multitudes of these converts, 
male and female, emigrated to the " prom- 
ised land." The next year was dis- 
tinguished by continued scenes of violence, 
attended with bloodshed and death, be- 
tween the people of Missouri and the 
Mormons, among the killed being Captain 
Fearnot, alias Patten, leader of the Danite 
band. Smith, and his brother Hyrum, 
together with such kindred spirits as 
Young, Phelps, Pratt, Hedlock, Turley, 
Rockwell, Higbee, were particularly ob- 



noxious to the hatred of the Missourians ; 
and, throughout all tlie western states, no 
curse that could come upon a neighbor- 
hood was considered so great as that of the 
advent of Mormon settlers. 

Early in the summer of 1839, Smith 
visited the town of Commerce, in Illinois, 
at the invitation of Dr. Isaac Galland, of 
whom he obtained, gratis, a large tract of 
land, to induce the Mormons to immigrate, 
and upon receipt of revelation called his 
people around him, and sold them the 
town lots. This pl.ice was afterward called 
Nauvoo, "the beautiful site," and soon 
nun.bereil thousands of souls; the build- 
ing of the famous temple was commenced 
the next year. Polygamy dates from 
about this time, being authorized as 
Smith's privilege, according to a "revela- 
tion" received by him. Smith was re- 
peatedly arrested in 1842-3-4, on charges 
of murder, treason, and adulter^-, but 
managed either to escape or be acquitted, 
until the fatal summer of 1844. The 
greatest crimes charged against him were 
those testified to by some of his once 
devoted but afterwards disgusted and 
seceding disciples, and who would have 
been glad to execute summary vengeance 
upon his head. 

The exasperation produced by the Mor- 
mons murdering Lieutenant Governor 
Boggs (under Governor Dunklin), of Mis- 
souri, in May, 1843, was widespread and 
most intense, and the swarming of the 
sect into Illinois, caused the inhabitants of 
the latter to .irm themselves. Governor 
Ford, of Illinois, persuaded the Smiths, 
under jiledge of his word, to j'ield up their 
arms, and sent them prisoners, under 
the charge of sixty militia men, to Car- 
thage. Here the prisoners were at once 
arrested for treason. Instead of being 
confined in cells, the two Smiths, at the 
instance of their friends, were put into 
the debtors' room of the prison, and a 
guard assigned for their securitj'. But, 
on the 27th of June, 1844, a large body 
of exasperated and lawless men, with their 
faces painted and blackened, broke into 
the jail, and summarily killed both Joseph 



220 



KISE AND PEOGRESS OF THE MORMONS. 



and Hyrum Smith, and instantly fled. In 
his struggle against the mob, the prophet 
attempted, as a last resort, to leap from the 
rrlndow, when two balls jsierced him from 
the door, one of which entered his right 
breast, and he staggered lifeless, exclaim- 
ing, ' Lord, my God!' He fell on his 
left side, a dead man. The excitement in 
all jsarts of the west, following this event, 
was tremendous. 

An address was now sent forth to " all 
the saints in the world," announcing, with 
lamentations, the death of " the Lord's 
Prophet." Brigham Young, a native of 
Whittingham, Vt., succeeded to the presi- 
dency, thus defeating Rigdon, who claimed 
the office, but who was forthwith cut off, 
and delivered over to the 'buffetings of 
Satan.' The next great step was the 
abandonment of Nauvoo, on account of the 
bitter hostility of the Illinoisians to the 
existence of Mormonism in their midst. 
Nauvoo was a city regularly laid out with 
broad streets crossing at right angles, and 
the houses were built generally of logs, 
with a few frame and brick buildings 
interspersed. A temple, one hundred and 
thirty feet long by ninety wide, was 




MORMON TEMPLE. 



erected of polished limestone ; the bap- 
tistry was in the basement, and held a 
large stone basin supported by twelve 
colossal oxen. In 1848, this building was 
set on fire by an incendiary, and all con- 
sumed except the walls, which were finally 
destroyed by a tornado, in 1850. 

The valley of the Great Salt Lake, in 
Utah, now became the new " promised 



land " of the exiled Mormons, and, cross- 
ing the frozen Mississippi in the winter of 
184G, the exodus began ; in the summer 
ensuing, they commenced to lay the 
foundations of the city, — the '• New Jeru- 
salem." Soon after, the whole of this vast 
region was surveyed by Messrs. Stansbury 
and Gunnison, by order of the federal 
government, and a bill organizing Utah 
into a Territory having been signed bj- 
President Pillmoro, Brigham Young was 
appointed governor, and thus became the 
supreme head of the church and state. 
He has ruled with consummate tact and 
success, overcoming all opposition from 
" Gentile " sources, and even keeping at 
bay the national government itself. Ho 
declared, " I am, and will he, goveimor, 
and 110 power on earth can hinder it, until 
the Lord Almiglittj says, ' Bricjham, you 
need not he governor any longer.' " Under 
his teachings and practice, polygamy be- 
came firmly established and universal, the 
prohibitory laws of the United States in 
this matter being openly defied. His 
conduct he defended in powerful harangues 
to the faithful, who were alwaj's ready, at 
the word of command, to fight or murder, 
in behalf of their political aid spiritual 
chief, if occasion required. Their sec- 
tarian literature has been very voluminous, 
and has appeared in almost every language ; 
for even in the old world — throughout 
Europe, as also in Asia, Africa, Australia, 
and Polynesia, — scores of thousands of the 
simple-minded have become dupes of the 
itinerant imjjostors sent forth from head- 
quarters to convert the " gentile " world. 
Of Young, personallj', the description 
usually given is that of a man nithcr 
above the medium height and somewhat 
corpulent, with a face indicative of pene- 
tration and firmness ; hair parted on the 
side, and reaching below the ears with a 
half curl ; the forehead somewhat narrow, 
thin eyebrows, the eyes between gray and 
blue, with a calm, composed, and some- 
what reserved expression ; nose, fine and 
sharp-pointed, and bent a little to the left ; 
lips close, the lower one evincing the 
sensual voluptuary ; cheeks rather fleshy, 



RISE AND PROGEESS OF THE MORMONS. 



22J 




SALr LAKE nlA'. lllE M')i;-M<iN Ziox. 



the side line between the nose and 
the mouth considerably broken, and the 
chin peaked ; hands well made ; the whole 
figure large, broad-shouldered, and stoop- 
ing a little when standing. In dress, no 
Quaker could be neater or plainer, — all 
gray homespun, except the cravat and 
waistcoat ; the coat of antique cut, and, 
like the pantaloons, baggy, and the but- 
tons black ; a neck-tie of dark silk, with 
a large bow, was loosely passed around a 
starchless collar, which turned down of its 
own accord ; the waistcoat of black satin 
— once an article of almost national dress 
— single-breasted, and buttoned nearly to 
the neck, and a plain gold chain passed 
into the pocket. In manner, affable and 
impressive, simple and courteous, exciting 
in strangers a consciousness of his power. 
The number of his wives was never known 
by any person but himself ; and the multi- 
tude of his children, thus born into the 
world, constituted his chief boast. Those 
who would like to know more of the 
details of a Mormon prophet's harem will 
find them amply portra3'ed in the works 
of Burton, Ferris, Waite, Bowles, Colfax, 
and other travelers in that region. 

Salt Lake City, about two thousand 
miles west of New York, is situated on 
the east bank of the river Jordan, a stream 
which connects Great Salt Lake and Lake 
Utah ; it is separated as well from the 
western frontier as from the Pacific coast, 
by drearj'^, timberless prairies, sand plains, 
and high mountains, the mountains on 
the east side being covered with perpetual 



snow, and their summits are nearly two 
miles above the level of the sea. Thus, 
the Mormons form an isolated people, 
and their home is almost shut out from 
the rest of mankind. The city was laid 
out so as to contain two hundred and 
sixty blocks of ten acres each, divided 
into eight lots and four public squares ; 
the streets, one hundred and twenty-eight 
feet wide, and a stream of water flowing 
through each, for the purpose of irrigat- 
ing the gardens; and the squares being 
adorned with trees from the four quarters 
of the globe, and adorned with fountains. 
The houses are built of sun-dried brick, 
and are generally small and of one story, 
with separate entrances where there are 
several wives. The great temple, built in 
the Gothic style, is one hundred and fifty 
feet long and sixty feet wide. One of the 
largest buildings is the tithing-house, 
where is deposited one-tenth of all the 
products of the territory for the benefit 
of the church. Almost " all the authorities 
of Zion " live in this, the great city 
tliereof, with families comprising from 
twenty-five to two wives each, and there 
are manj- more girls than boys born. The 
population is composed largely of English, 
Scotch, AVelsli and Danes. In the taber- 
nacle, a large public building, the people 
assemble on the Sabbath, to hear the 
Mormon gospel preached by the prophet 
and his coadjutors. In another building, 
called the Endowment House, the secret 
orders, sacred ordinances, and solemn mys- 
teries of Mormouism are administered. 



-, 



XXYII. 

CAREER, CAPTURE, AND EXECUTION OF GIBBS, THP: 
MOST NOTED PIRATE OF THE CENTURY.— 1831. 



His Bold, Enterprising, Desperate, and Successful War, for Many Tears. Against the Commerce of all 
Nations. — Terror inspired by His Name as the Scourge of the Ocean and the Kiien\v of Mankind. — 
Scores of Vessels Taken, Plundered, and Destroyed. — Their Crews and Passengers, .Male and Female, 
Instantly Butchered — Gibbs Born in Rhode Island — Joins the Privateer Maria. — Captures Her in a 
Mutiny. — Hoists the Black Flag. — Gibbs Chosen Leader. — Rendezvous at Cape Antonio — Booty 
Sold in Havana. — No Lives Spared. — One Beautiful Girl Excepted. — Atrocious Use Made of Her. — 
The Maria Chased All Day. — Her Final Abandonment. — A New Craft: Rich Prizes — Fight with a 
United States Frigate. — Gihbs Overmatched and Flees — Fatal Voyage in the Vineyard — Lands at 
Southampton, L. I. — His Infamy Brought to Light. — Arrested With His Treasure. — Confession of 
His Guilt.— Black Record of Crime and Blood.— Close of His Ill-Starred Lite. 



" Lendinc a pirate's cri-w. 
O'er the dark pea I flew. 
Wild wns the life we led. 
Many the eouls that pped. 
Many the bearte that bled, 

By our Bttrn onlers." 




.iPrUAL OF A nXRI, ro GIBBS TO SPAKE HEK 1.1 FE. 



^g OT WITHSTANDING a new generation 
has come upon the stage of human af- 
fairs, since "Gibbs, the pirate," startled 
tlie world by his bold and atrocious 
career on the high seas, his deeds are 
still read of, rehearsed, and listened to, 
\ with the same wondering interest and 
involuntar}' shudder, as when, iu the 
days of their actual occurrence, they broke 
fresh upon the ears of an astonished and 
outraged community ; — a career which, in 
spite of the destiny that inevitably awaits 
such a course of crime against mankind, 
seemed for years to defy and baffle all the 
efforts of pursuit and of retributive justice. 
From the various accessible resources of 
information concerning this notorious 
adept in piracy and blood, it appears that 
his native place was Providence, E. I., his 
real name, James D. Jeffers, having been 
given up, and that of Charles Gibbs sub- 
stituted. Bearing this name, at the very 



CAREER OF GIBBS, THE NOTED PIEATE. 



mention of wIiilIi mankind tv-ou1J after- 
wards shudder, he beiame, iu the widest 
and most ghastly sense. of the term, ever 
applied to man, the Scourr/e of the Ocean. 

In November, 1830, there sailed from 
New Orleans for Philadelphia, the brig 
Vineyard, Captain AVilliam Thornby, with 
William Roberts as mate, and the follow- 
ing crew : Charles Gibbs, John Brownrigg, 
Robert Dawes, Henry Atwell, James 
Talbot, A. Church, and Thomas I. Wans- 
ler, a young negro native of Delaware, 
who acted as cook. "When the Vineyanl 
had been five days at sea, Wansley made it 
known to the crew that there were fifty 
thousand dollars in specie on board. This 
information excited their cupidity, and 
induced them to secretly consult as to 
whether and how they could get the money 
into their own hands. jNIany conversa- 
tions took place on the subject, and while 
these were going on, Dawes, who was a 
mere boy, was sent to converse with the 
officers, in order to divert their attention 
from what was passing. 

Finally, the resolution was taken, that 
as the master and mate were old men, it 
was time they should die and make room 
for the rising generation. Moreover, they 
were of the opinion that as the mate was 
of a peevish disposition, he deserved death. 
It does not appear, however, that Brown- 
rigg or Talbot had any part in these plans, 
or in the foul deed that resulted from 
them. The conspirators agreed to commit 
the fiendish crimes of murder and piracj', 
on the night of the twenty-third. The 
murder of the master was, by agreement, 
to Gibbs and Wansley, and that of the 
mate to Atwell and Church. This plan 
was carried out. 

The pirates took possession of the vessel, 
and Wansley busied himself in wiping up 
the blood that had been spilled on deck, 
declaring, with an oath, that though he 
had heard that the stains of the blood of a 
murdered person could not be effaced, he 
would wipe away these. Then, after 
drinking all round, the}- got up the money. 
It was distributed in equal portions to all 
on board; Brownrigg and Talbot being 



assured that, if they would keep the secret," 
and share the plunder, they should receive 
no injury. 

They then steered a north-easterly 
course toward Long Island, till they came 
within fifteen or twenty miles of South- 
ampton light, where they resolved to leave 
the vessel and take to the boats, though 
the wind was blowing very hard. Atwell 
scuttled the brig and got into the joll}'- 
boat with Church and Talbot, while 
Gibbs, Wansley, Dawes, and Brownrigg, 
put off in the long-boat. The jolly-boat 
swamped on a bar two miles from the 
shore, and all on board were drowned. 
The long-boat was also in great danger, 
and was only saved from a like fate by 
throwing over several bags of specie. Nev- 
ertheless, the crew at last got on shore at 
Pelican Island, where the^' buried their 
money, and found a sportsman who told 
them where the}' were. They then crossed 
to Great Barn Island, and went to the 
house of a ]\Ir. Johnson, to wliom Brown- 
rigg gave the proper information. Thence 
they went to the house of a Mr. Leonard, 
where they procured a wagon to carry 
them farther. As they were about to get 
in, Brownrigg cried aloud that they might 
go where they pleased, but he would not 
accompany them, for they were murderers. 
On hearing this, Mr. Leonard obtained the 
presence of a magistrate, and Gibbs and 
Dawes were apprehended. Wansley es- 
caped into the woods, but was followed 
and soon taken. The maritime, and 
indeed the whole civilized world, breathed 
freer, when the news spread abroad of the 
great pirate's capture. 

The evidence of the guilt of the accused 
was full and conclusive. Their own con- 
fession of the crime, voluntarily made to 
Messrs. Merritt and Stevenson, who had 
the custody of them from Flatbush to New 
York, could have left not the shadow of a 
doubt on the mind of any person who heard 
the testimony of those officers. Wansley 
told the whole stor}', occasionally prompted 
by Gibbs; and while both admitted that 
Brownrigg was innocent, their confession 
was not so favorable as to Dawes. 



224 



CAREER OF GIBBS, THE NOTED PIRATE. 



Gibbs was arraigned for tlie murder of 
William Roberts, and Wansley for that of 
Captain Thoi-nby, and, being found guiltj', 
judgment in accordance with tlie law was 
pronounced. During the trial, the iron 
visage of Gibbs was occasionally changed 
by a transient emotion ; he bad evidently 
aljandoned all hope of escape, and sat the 
greater part of his time with his hands 
between his knees, calmly surveying the 
scene before him. Wansley was more 
agitated, and trembled visibly when he 
rose to hear the verdict of the jury. 

And now, as was to be expected, there 
was revealed tlie bloody annals of Gibbs's 
ill-starred career. 




PIRATE GIBBS. 



It was in the latter part of 1813, that 
he entered on board a ship bound to New 
Orleans and thence to Stockholm. On the 
homeward passage they were forced to put 
into Bristol, England, in distress, where 
the ship was condemned, and he proceeded 
to Liverpool. He returned to the United 
States in the ship Amity, Captain Max- 
well. Shortly after Ids arrival home, the 
death of an uncle put him in possession 
of about two thousand dollars, with which 
he established himself in the grocery busi- 
ness in Boston, an undertaking which did 
not prove profitable, so that he was often 
under the necessity of applying to his 
father for assistance, which was always 
afforded, together with the best advice. 
The stock was finally sold at auction, for 
about nine hundred dollars, which he soon 
squandered in tippling-houses and among 
profligates. His father, hearing of his 
dissipation, wrote affectionately to him to 
come home, hut he stubbornly refused, and 
again turned his attention to the sea. 



Sailing in the ship John, Captain Brown, 
bound for the island of Margaretta, he 
left the ship soon after its arrival at that 
place, and entered on board the Colombian 
privateer Maria, Captain Bell. They 
cruised for about two months in the Gulf 
of Mexico, around Cuba, but the crew 
becoming dissatisfied in consequence of 
the non-payment of their prize-money, a 
mutiny arose, the crew took possession of 
the schooner, and landed the officers near 
Pensacola. A number of daj-s elapsed 
before it was finally decided by them what 
course to pursue. Some advised that they 
should cruise as before, under the Colom- 
bian commission; others jiroposed to hoist 
the black flag. They cruised for a short 
time without succes.s, and it was then 
uuanimouslij determined to hoist the black 
flag, and wage war against the commerce 
of all nations. Their bloody jjurpose, 
however, was not carried into full and 
immediate execution; for, though they 
boarded a number of vessels, they allowed 
them to pass unmolested, there being no 
specie on board, and their cargoes not 
being convertible into anything valuable 
to themselves. 

At last, one of the crew, named Anto- 
nio, suggested that an arrangement could 
be made with a man in Havana, that 
would be mutually beneficial ; that he 
would receive all their goods, sell them, 
and divide the proceeds. This plan being 
received favorabl}', they ran up within 
two miles of Moro Castle, and sent Anto- 
nio on shore to see the merchant and make 
a contract with him. Previous to this, 
Gibbs was chosen to navigate the vessel. 
Antonio succeeded in arranging every- 
thing according to their wishes, and Cajje 
Antonio was appointed to be the place of 
rendezvous. The merchant was to furnish 
facilities for transporting the goods to 
Havana, which he did for more than three 
years. 

The Maria now ])ut to sea, with a crew 
of about fifty men, mostly Si)aniards and 
Americans, with every expectation of suc- 
cess. The first vessel she fell in with was 
the Indisjjensable, an English ship bound 



CAEEER OF GIBBS, THE NOTED PIEATE. 



225 



to Havana, which was taken and carried 
to Cape Antonio. The crew ivere imme- 
diately destroyed ; those who resisted were 
hacked to pieces; those who offered no 
resistance ivere reserved to be shot and 
thrown overboard. The maxim to which 
they scrupulously adhered, was, that 'dead 
men tell no tales' According to Gibbs's 
statement, he never had occasion to give 
orders to begin the work of death. The 
Spaniards were eager to accomplish that 
object without delay, and generally every 
unhappy victim disappeared in a very few 
minutes after the pirates' feet trod the 
deck of the fated vessel. 

Gibbs now directed his course towards 
the Bahama Banks, where they captured a 
brig, believed to be the William, of New 
York, from some port in Mexico, with a 
cargo of furniture, destroyed the crew, took 
the vessel to Cape Antonio, and sent the 
furniture and other articles to their accom- 
plice in Havana. Sometime during this 
cruise, the pirate was chased for nearly a 
whole day, by a United States frigate, 
supposed to be the John Adams ; he 
hoisted patriot colors, and finally escaped. 
In the early part of the summer of 1817, 
they took the Earl of Moria, an English 
ship from London, with a cargo of drj'- 
goods. The crew were destroyed, the 
vessel burnt, and the goods carried to the 
Cape ; here the pirates had a settlement 
with their Havana agent, and the jsroceeds 
were divided according to agreement. 
Gibbs repaired personally to Havana, in- 
troduced himself to the merchant, and 
made arrangements for the successful pros- 
ecution of his piracies. While there, he 
became acquainted with many of the En- 
glish and American naval officers, and, 
adroitly concealing his own character and 
calling, inquired respecting the success of 
their various expeditions for the suppres- 
sion of piracy, and all their intended 
movements ! 

On the return to Cape Antonio, Gibbs 
found his comrades in a state of mutiny 
and rebellion, and that several of them had 
been killed. His energy checked the dis- 
turbance, and all agreed to submit to his 
15 



orders, and put any one to death who 
should dare to disobey them. 

During the cruise which was made in 
the latter part of 1817 and the beginning 
of 1818, a Dutch ship from Curacoa was 
captured, with a cargo of West India 
goods, and a quantity of silver plate. The 
passengers and crew, to the number of 
thirty, were all killed, with the exception 
of a young and beautiful female, about 
seventeen, ivho, in the midst of the awful 
scene of death-blows and shrieks and man- 
gled corpses, kneeled upon the gory deck, 
and piteously implored Gibbs to save her 
life! The appeal was successful; and he 
promised to save her, though he knew it 
would lead to dangerous consequences 
among his crew. She was carried to Cape 
Antonio, and kept there about two months ; 
but the dissatisfaction increased until it 
broke out at last into open mutiny, and 
one of the pirates was shot by Gibbs for 
daring to lay hold of her with a view to 
beating out her brains. Gibbs was com- 
pelled, however, in the end, to submit her 
fate to a council of war, at which it was 
decided that the preservation of their own 
lives made her sacrifice indispensable. He 
therefore acquiesced in the decision, and 
gave orders to have her destroyed by 
poison, which was immediatelj' adminis- 
tered to her, and thus the young, beautiful, 
and unfortunate creature teas launched 
into the other world. 

Shortly after this, the piratical schooner 
was driven ashore near the Cape, and so 
much damaged that it was found necessary 
to destroy her. A new, sharp-built 
schooner was in consequence provided by 
their faithful ally in Havana, called the 
Picciana, and dispatched to their rendez- 
vous. 

In this vessel, they cruised successfully 
for more than four years. Among the 
vessels taken and destroj'ed — and their 
crews and passengers remorselessly hurried 
into eternity — were the Belvidere, Dido, a 
Dutch brig, the British barque Larch, and 
many others. 

Gibbs further stated that he had been 
concerned ia robbing forty different ves- 



226 



CAREER OF GIBBS, THE i^OTED PIRATE. 




GIDBS EUTCHKRING THE CREW OF ONE OF HIS PRIZES. 



sels. He gave the names of upwards of a 
score of vessels taken by the pirates under 
his command, the crews of tvhirh had been 
murdered. 

Sometime in the course of the year 
1819, Gibbs left Havana for the United 
States, carrying with him about thirty 
thousand dollars. He passed several 
vreeks in New York, and then went to 
Boston, whence he took passage for Liver- 
pool, in the ship Emerald. Before he 
sailed, however, he had squandered a large 
part of his money in dissipation and gam- 
bling. He remained in Liverpool a few 
months, and then returned to Boston iii 
the ship Topaz. His residence iu Liver- 



pool, at that time, was testified to by a 
female in New York, who was well 
acquainted with him there, and where, as 
she stated, he lived like a wealthy gentle- 
man. In speaking of his acquaintance 
with this female, Gibbs said : 

" I fell in with a woman, who, I thought, 
was all virtue, but she deceived me, and I 
am sorry to say that a heart that never 
felt abashed at scenes of carnage and 
blood, was made a child of, for a time, by 
her, and I gave way to dissipation and 
torment. How often, when the fumes of 
liquor have subsided, have I thought of 
my good and affectionate jiarents, and of 
their godly advice ! But when the little 



CAREER OF GIRBS, THE NOTED PIRATE. 



227 



monitor liegan to move witliin me, I imme- 
diately seized tlie cup to liide myself from 
myself, and drank until the sense of intoxi- 
cation was renewed. My friends advised 
me to beluive like a man, and promised me 
their assistance, but the demon still 
haunted me, and I spurned their advice." 

He readily admitted his participation in 
the Vineyard mutiny, revolt and robbery, 
and in the murder of Thornbv ; and, so 
impressed was he with the universal detes- 
tation and horror which his heinous crimes 
had excited against him, tliat he often 
inquired if he should not be murdered in 
the streets, in case lie had his liberty, and 
was recognized. He would also frequently 
exclaim, '• Oil, if I had got into A/f/iers, 
I should never have been in this j)>'ison, 
to be hung for murder ! " 

Though he gave no evidence of contri- 
tion for tlie horrible and multiplied crimes 
of which he confessed himself guilty, yet 
he evidently dwelt upon their recollection 
with great unwillingness. If a question 
was asked him, in regard to how the crews 
were generally destroyed, he answered 
quickly and briefly, and instantly changed 
the topic either to the circumstances 
attending his trial, or to his exploits in 
Buenos Ayres. On being asked why with 
such cruelty he killed so many persons, 
after getting all their money, which was 
all he wanted, he replied that the laws 
themselves were responsible for so many 
'murders; that, by those laws, a man has 
to suffer death for piracy, and the punish- 
ment for murder is no more, — besides, all 
witnesses are out of the way, and, conse- 
quently, if the punishment was different, 
there would not be so many murdei-s. 

On Friday, April twenty-second, 1831, 



Gibbs and AYansley paid the penalty of 
their crimes. Both prisoners arrived at 
the gallows about twelve o'clock, accom- 
panied by the marshal, his aids, and a 
body of United States marines. Two 
clergymen attended them to the fatal spot, 
where, everything being in readiness, the 
ropes were adjusted about their necks, and 
prayers offered. Gibbs addressed the 
spectators, acknowledging the heinousness 
of his career, and adding — 

" Should any of the friends of those 
whom I have been accessory to, or engaged 
in, the murder of, be now present, before 
my Maker I beg their forgivenes.s — it is 
the only boon I ask — and, as I hope for 
pardon through the blood of Christ, surely 
this request will not be withheld by man, 
from a worm, like myself, standing, as I 
do, on the very verge of eternity' ! An- 
other moment, and I cease to exist — and 
could I find in nij^ bosom room to imagine 
that the spectators now assembled had 
forgiven me, the scaffold would have no 
terrors. My first crime was piracy, for 
which my life would pay the forfeit on 
conviction ; no punishment could be 
inflicted on me farther than that, and 
therefore I had nothing to fear but detec- 
tion, for had my offenses been millions of 
times more aggravated than they now are, 
death must have satisfied all." 

Gibbs shook hands with Wanslej', the 
officers and clergymen, the caps were then 
drawn over the faces of the two criminals, 
and a handkerchief dropped bj' Gibbs as a 
signal to the executioner caused the coid 
to be severed, and in an instant they were 
suspended in air. Wansley expired with 
only a few slight struggles. Gibbs died 
hard. 



XXVIII. 

SUBLIME METEORIC SHOWER ALL OVER THE UNITED 

STATES.— 1833. 



The Most Grand and Brilliant Celestial Phenomenon Ever Beheld and Recorded by Man. — The Whole 
Firmament of the Universe in Fiery Commotion for Several Hours. — Amazing Velocity, Size, and 

Profusion of the Falling Bodies. — Tlieir Intense Heat, Vivid Colors, and Strange, Glowing Beauty. 

Unequaled in Every Respect— Cloudless Serenity of the Sky.— The Iteople Wonder-Struck.— 
Admiration Among the Intelligent. — Alarm Among the Ignorant. — Conflagration of the World 
Feared.— Impromptu Prayer-Meetings. — Prodigious Star-Shower at Boston.— Myriads of Blood-Red 
Fire-Balls. — The Display at Niagara Falls. — Blazing Heavens, Roaring Cataracts. — Some of the 
Meteors Explode.— Trains of Light in their Track.— Radiant Prismatic Hues.— Substance Compos- 
ing these Bodias. — Dissipated by Bursting. — One Great Central Source. — Velocity, Four Miles a 
Second. — Novel Shapes and Motions. — Hotter than the Hottest Furnace. — Possible Result to the 
Earth. — Half a Continent in Presumed Jeopardy. 



" the lant^uiDe flood 
KoUed h broad slaaehter o'er the ploins of heaven. 
And nature's eelf did aeem to totter on the brink of tima 




[TENSIVE and magnificent showers of shooting stars have been known 
' occur at various places in modern times ; but the most universal and 
wonderful which has ever been recorded is that 
of the thirteenth of November, 1833, the whole 
firmament, over all the Utiited States, being 
then, for hours, in fiery commotion ! No celestial 
phenomenon has ever occurred in this country, since 
its first settlement, which was viewed with such in- 
tense admiration by one class in the community, or 
with so much dread and alarm bj' another. Ic was 
the all-engrossing theme of conversation and of 
scientiiic disquisition, for weeks and months. In- 
deed, it could not be otherwise, than that such a 
rare phenomenon, — next in grandeur and sublimity 
to that of a total solar eclipse, or a great comet 
stretched athwart the starry heavens, in full view 
of a wonder-struck universe, — should awaken the 
deepest interest among all beholding it. Nor is the 
memory of this marvelous scene yet extinct ; its 
sublimity and awful beauty still linger in many minds, who also remember well the 
terror with which the demonstration was regarded, and the mortal fear excited among 
the ignorant that the end of the world had come. During the three hours of its con- 



vs#Ssft<» 



METEORIC SHOWER AT BOSTON. 



SUBLIME METEOKIC SHOWER. 



229 



tinuance, the day of judgment was be- 
lieved to be onl}' waiting for sunrise, and, 
long after the shower had ceased, the 
morbid and superstitious still were im- 
pressed with the idea that the final day 
was at least only a week ahead. Impromptu 
meetings for prayer were held in many 
places, and many other scenes of religious 
devotion, or terror, or abandonment of 
worldly affairs, transpired, under the in- 
fluence of fear occasioned by so sudden 
and awful a display. 

But, though in many districts the mass 
of the population were thus panic-stricken, 
through fear, as well as want of familiarity 
with the history of such appearances, the 
more enlightened were profoundly awed 
at contemplating so vivid a picture of the 
apocalyptic image — that of ' the stars of 
heaven falling to the earth, even as a fig 
tree casting her untimely figs, when she is 
shaken of a mighty wind.' In describing 
the effect of this phenomenon upon the 
black population, a southern planter says : 

' I was suddenly awakened by the most 
distressing cries that ever fell on my ears. 
Shrieks of horror and cries for mercy, 
could be heard from most of the negroes of 
three plantations, amounting in all to some 
six or eight hundred. While earnestly 
and breathlessly listening for the cause, I 
heard a faint voice near the door calling 
my name. I arose, and, taking my sword, 
stood at the door. At this moment I 
heard the same voice still beseeching me 
to rise, and saying, " 0, my God, the world 
is on fire!" I then opened the door, and 
it is difficult to say which excited me most 
— the awfulness of the scene, or the dis- 
tressed cries of the negroes. Upwards of 
one hundred lay prostrate on the ground, 
some speechless, and others uttering the 
bitterest moans, but with their hands 
raised, imploring God to save the world 
and them. The scene was truly awful, for 
never did rain fall much thicker than the 
meteors fell towards the earth ; east, west, 
north, and south, it was the same.' In a 
word, the tvhole heavens seemed in motion. 

The display, as described in Professor 
Silliman's Journal, was seen all over North 



America. The chief scene of the exhibi- 
tion was within the limits of the longitude 
of sixty-one degrees in the Atlantic ocean, 
and that of one hundred degrees in Cen- 
tral Me.xico, and from the North Ameri- 
can lakes to the southern side of the island 
of Jamaica. 

Over this vast area, an appearance pre- 
sented itself far surpassing, in grandeur 
and magnificence, the loftiest reach of the 
human imagination. From two o'clock 
until broad daylight, the sky being per- 
fectly serene and cloudless, an incessant 
play of dazzlingly brilliant luminosities 
was kept up in the whole heavens. Some 
of these were of great magnitude and most 
peculiar form. One, of large size, remained 
for some time almost stationary in the ze- 
nith, over the Falls of Niagara, emitting 
streams of light which radiated in all direc- 
tions. The wild dash of the waters, as con- 
trasted with the fiery commotion above 
them, formed a scene of unequaled and 
amazing sublimity. Arago computes that 
not less than two hundred and forty thou- 
sand meteors were at the same time visible 
above the horizon of Boston ! To form some 
idea of such a spectacle, one must imagine 
a constant succession of fire-balls, resem- 
bling sky-rockets radiating in all direc- 
tions, from a point in the heavens near the 
zenith, and following the arch of the sky 
towards the horizon. They proceeded to 
various distances from the radiating point, 
leaving after them a vivid streak of light, 
and usually exploding before they disap- 
peared. The balls were of various sizes 
and degrees of splendor ; some were mere 
points, but others were larger and brighter 
than Jupiter or Venus ; and one, in par- 
ticular, appeared to be nearly of the moon's 
size. But at Niagara, no spectacle so ter- 
ribly grand and sublime was ever before 
beheld by man as that of the firmament 
descending in fiery torrents over the dark 
and roaring cataract ! 

Everywhere within the range of the 
exhibition, the first appearance was that of 
fire-works of the most imposing grandeur, 
covering the entire vault of heaven with 
myriads of fire-balls resembling sky-rock- 



230 



SUBLIME METEORIC SHOWER. 



ets. On more attentive inspection, it was 
seen that tlie meteors exhibited tliree dis- 
tinct varieties, as follows, described bj' Dr. 
Olmsted : — 

First, those consisting of phosphoric 
lines, apparently described by a point. 
This variety was the most numerous, 
every-where filling the atmosphere, and 
resembling a sliower of fier}' snow driven 
with inconceivable velocity to the north of 
west, and transfixing the beholder with 
wondering awe. 

Second, those consisting of large fire- 
balls, which at intervals darted along the 
sky, leaving luminous trains which occa- 
sionally remained in view for a number of 
minutes, and, in some cases, for lialf an 
hour or more. This kind appeared more 
like falling stars, giving to many persons 
the \evy natural impression that the stars 
were actually falling from the sky; and it 
was principally this spectacle which caused 
such amazement and terror among the 
unenlightened classes. 

Third, those undefined luminous bodies 
which remained nearly stationary in the 
heavens for a considerable period of time; 
these were of various size and form. 

One of the most remarkable circum- 
stances attending this display was, that 
the meteors all seemed to emanate from 



sky, ran along the vault with immense 
velocity, describing in some instances an 
arc of thirty or forty degrees in less than 
four seconds. The trains which they left 
were commonly white, but were sometimes 
tinged with various prismatic colors. 

One ball — seen at New Haven, and sup- 
posed to have been identical with one 
described b^' various observers — that shot 
otf in the north-west direction, and ex- 
ploded a little northward of the star 
Capella, left, just behind tlie place of 
explosion, a j)hosphorescent train of jiecu- 
liar beauty. The line of direction was at 
first nearly straight ; but it soon began to 
contract in length, to dilate in breadth, 
and to assume the figure of a serpent draw- 
ing himself up, until it appeared like a 
small luminous cloud of vapor. This 
cloud was borne eastward, — the wind 
blowing gently in that direction, — oppo- 
site to the course in which the meteor had 
proceeded, remaining in sight several 
minutes. 

Of the third variety of meteors, the fol- 
lowing are remarkable examples. At 
Poland, Ohio, a luminous body was dis- 
tinctly visible in the north-east for more 
than an hour; it was verj' brilliant, in the 
form of a pruning-hook, and apparently 
twenty feet long and eighteen inches 




MKIEOKK,' .suuWhK AS SiiEN A r MAGAKA i'ALL> 



one and the same point; that is, if their 
lines of direction had been continued back- 
ward, they would have met in the same 
point, south-east a little from the zenith. 
They set out at different distances from 
this point, and, following the arch of the 



broad ; it gradually settled towards the 
horizon, until it disappeared. At Niagara 
Falls, a large, luminous body, shaped like 
a square table, was seen nearly in the 
zenith, remaining for some time almost 
stationary, and emitting large streams of 



SUBLIME METEORIC SHOWER. 



231 



light. At Charleston, S. C, a meteor of 
extraordinary size was seen to course the 
hearens for a great length of time, and 
then was heard to explode with the noise 
of a cannon. 

The point from which the meteors 
seemed to issue, was observed, by those 
who fixed the position of the display' 
among the stars, to be in the constellation 
Leo. At New Haven, it appeared in the 
bend of the ' sickle ' — a collection of stars 
in the breast of Leo, — a little to the west- 
ward of the star Gamma Leonis. By 
observers at other places remote from each 
other, it was seen in the same constella- 
tion, although in different parts of it. An 
interesting and important fact, in this 
connection, is, that this radiating point 
was stationar;/ among the fixed stars — 
that is, that it did not move along with the 
earth, in its diurnal revolution eastward, 
but accompanied the stars in their appar- 
ent progress westward. 

According to the testimony of by far the 
greater number of observers, the meteors 
were, in general, unaccompanied by any 
very peculiar sound ; but, on the other 
hand, such a sound, proceeding, as was 
supposed, from the meteors, was said to be 
distinctly heard by a few observers in 
various places. These sounds are repre- 
sented either as a hissing noise, like the 
rushing of a sky-rocket, or as explosions, 
like the bursting of the same bodies ; and 
these instances were too numerous to 
permit the supposition that they were 
'"naginar}-. 

A remarkable change of weather, from 
warm to cold, accompanied the meteoric 
shower, or immediately followed it. In 
all parts of the United States, this change 
was remarkable for its suddenness and 
intensitv. In many places, the day pre- 
ceding had been unusually warm for the 
season, but, before morning, a severe frost 
ensued, unparalleled for the time of year. 
Indeed, the seasons and atmospheric 
changes exhibited remarkable anomalies 
long after that period. Thus, in parts of 
Michigan, so unconunonly mild was the 
season throughout the latter part of 



November, and the whole of December, 
that the Indians made maple sugar during 
this month, and the contiguous lakes 
remained unfrozen as late as January 
third. At the same period, the season in 
the south-western states, as far as New 
Orleans, was uncommonly cold. In most 
portions of New England, an unusually 
mild winter was succeeded by a remarka- 
bly cold and backward spring, requiring 
domestic fires to be kept throughout the 
month of Maj', and frequently in the 
month of June. A succession of gales 
commenced about the time of the meteoric 
shower, first in the Atlantic ocean, and 
afterwards in various parts of the United 
States, almost unequaled in this country 
for their frequency and violence. 

The meteors were constituted of very 
light, combustible materials. Their com- 
bustibility was rendered evident by their 
exhibiting the actual phenomena of com- 
bustion, being consumed, or converted 
into smoke, with intense light and heat; 
and the extreme tenuity of the substance 
composing them is inferred fi-om the fact 
tliat they were stopped bj' the air. Had 
their quantity of matter been considerable, 
with so prodigious a velocity, they would 
liave had a sufficient momentum to enable 
them to reach the oarth, and the most dis- 
astrous conseque'.ices might have ensued. 
Upon submitting this subject to accurate 
calculation, upon established principles, 
Dr. Olmsted ascertained that the quantity 
of heat extricated from the air by the fall- 
ing meteors, exceeded that of the hottest 
furnaces, and could be compared onlj' to 
those immeasurable degrees of heat pro- 
duced in the laboratorj' of the chemist, 
before which the most refractory sub- 
stances are melted, and even dissipated in 
vapor. 

Some of the larger meteors must have 
been bodies of very great size. Dr. Smith, 
of North Carolina, and other persons in 
various places, saw a meteor which ap- 
peared as large as the full moon. If this 
body were at the distance of one hundred 
and ten miles from the observer, it must 
have had a diameter of one mile ; if at a 



232 



SUBLIME METEOEIC SHOWER. 



distance of eleven miles, its diameter was 
five hundred and twenty-eight feet ; and 
if only one mile off, it must have been 
forty-eight feet in diameter. These con- 
siderations leave no doubt that many of 
the meteors were of great size, though it 
may be difficult to say precisely how large. 
The fact that they were stopped by the 
resistance of the air, proves that their 
substance was light; still, the quantity of 
smoke, or residuum, which resulted from 
their destruction, indicates that there was 
quite a body of matter. 

The momentum of even light bodies of 
such size, and in such numbers, traversing 
the atmosphere with such astonishing 
velocity, must have produced extensive 
derangements in the atmospheric equilib- 
rium, as the consideration of certain points 
will show. 

These large bodies were stopped in the 
atmosphere, only by transferring their 
motion to columns of air, large volumes of 
which would be suddenly and violently 
displaced. Cold air of the upper regions 
would be brought down to the earth ; the 
portions of air incumbent over districts of 
country remote from each other, being 
mutually displaced, would exchange places, 
the air of the warm latitudes being trans- 
ferred to colder, and that of cold latitudes 
to warmer regions ; remarkable changes 
of season would be the consequence, and 
numerous and violent gales would prevail 
for a long time, until the atmosphere 
should have regained its equilibrium. That 
the state of the weather, and the condition 
of the seasons that followed the meteoric 
shower, corresponded to these consequences 
of the disturbance of the atmospheric equi- 
librium, is a remarkable fact, and favors 
the opinion early suggested, that such 
disturbance is a natural effect of the mete- 
oric shower, and it is a consequence from 
which the most formidable dangers attend- 
ing phenomena of this kind are to be 
apprehended. 

With regard to the nature of the mete- 
ors, Dr. Olmsted, after establishing the 
fact that they were combustible, light, 
and transparent bodies, infers that the 



cloud which produced the fiery shower, 
consisted of nebulous matter, analogous to 
that which composes the tails of comets. 
It cannot be said, indeed, precisely what 
is the constitution of the material of which 
the latter are composed ; but it is known 
that it is very light, since it meets no 
appreciable force of attraction on the plan- 
ets, moving even among the satellites of 
Jujiiter without disturbing their motions, 
although its own motions, in such cases, 
are greatly disturbed, thus proving its 
materiality ; and, that it is exceedingly 
transparent, is evinced by the fact that 
the smallest stars are visible through it. 
Hence, so far as there can be gathered 
any knowledge of the material of the neb- 
ulous matter of comets, and of the matter 
composing these November meteors, they 
appear to be analogous to each other. 

Various hypotheses have been proposed 
to account for this wonderful phenomenon. 
The agent most readily suggesting itself 
in this and in most other unexplained 
natural appearances — electricity — has no 
known properties adequate to account for 
the production of the meteors, for the 
motions which they exhibited, or for the 
trains which, in many instances, they left 
behind them. And, if this agent be sup- 
posed to have some connection with the 
light and heat which they exhibited, it ia 
to be borne in mind, that the compression 
of the air which must result from the 
rapid progress of large bodies through it, 
is a sufficient cause of this. 

Magnetism has also been assigned as the 
principal agent concerned in producing 
the meteoric shower. The aurora borealis, 
and the remarkable auroral arches which 
occasionally appear in the sk}', have been 
found to have peculiar relations to the 
magnetism of the earth, arranging them- 
selves in obedience to the laws of magnetic 
attraction. Something of this kind was 
supposed b}' some to appear during the 
meteoric phenomenon, especially in the 
position of the apparent center or radiant- 
point, which was, as noticed by many 
observers, very nearly in the place towards 
which the dipping-needle is directed. 



SUBLIME METEORIC SHOWER. 



233 




REMARKAliLE MKTEORIC DISPLAY ON THE MISSISSIPPI 



From other observations, however, it 
appears that the radiant-point was not 
stationary with respect to the meridian, 
hut accompanied the stars in their westerly 
progress ; the apparent coincidence with 
the pole of the dipping-needle being, 
according to this, purely accidental. 

According to the view that has been 
taken, by some, of the origin of meteoric 
stones, namely, that of ascribing them to 
terrestrial comets, the hypothesis has been 
suggested, that the meteors in question 
might have a similar origin. But the 
body which afforded the meteoric shower, 
could not have been of the nature of a 
satellite to the earth, because it remained 



so long stationary with respect to th« 
earth — at least two hours, --a period suffi- 
cient to have carried it nearly rouiu tb* 
earth in a circular orbit. 

Nor can it be supposed that the earth 
in its annual progress, came into the vicin- 
ity of a nebula, which was either station- 
ary, or wandering lawless through space. 
Such a collection of matter could not 
remain stationary within the solar system, 
in .an insulated state ; and had it been in 
motion in any other direction than that in 
which the earth was moving, it would soon 
have been separated from the earth, since, 
during the eight hours while the meteoric 
shower lasted, — and perhaps, in all hi 



234 



SUBLIME METEORIC SHOWER. 



wide range, it lasted much longer, — the 
earth moved in its orbit through the space 
of nearly five hundred and fifty thousand 
ir.iles. 

In connection with the account of this 
meteoric shower, mention may he made of 
a remarkable light, seen in the east at the 
time of that great display, and subse- 
quently in the west after twilight at differ- 
ent times, until the month of May, which 
light assumed different aspects, corre- 
sponding, apparently, to those which the 
body revolving around the sun, in the 
manner contemplated by theorj', would 
occupy. Hence it was conjectured, that 
this luminous ajipearance proceeded from 
the body itself, which afforded the mete- 
oric shower. It has also been suggested, 
that this light may result from the same 
cause as the zodiacal light, and that the 
latter interesting phenomenon perhaps re- 
sults from a nebulous body revolving 
around the sun, interior to the orbit of the 
earth. 

It is a point worthy of contemplation, 
namely, the direful effects which such a 
"fiery shower" might, in the absence of 
that law of harmony which governs the 
universe, have unquestionably produced. 
Had the meteors been constituted of mate- 
rials a little more dense, their momentum 
would have enabled them to reach the 
earth ; and had they held on their course 
three seconds longer, it is impossible to 
conceive of the calamities which would 
have ensued bj' the descent to the earth of 
bodies of such magnitude, glowing with 
the most intense heat. Hnlf the continent 
vntst have been involved in one common 
(iKsf ruction ! 

One of the most interesting facts per- 
taining to this grand celestial phenomenon, 
is its periodical character. Between the 
years 903 and 1833, of tlie modern era, 
thirteen of these great showers are re- 
corded, separated from each other by inter- 
vals of thirty-three and sixty-six j-ears. 
It is not a little remarkable, too, that the 
epoch of these periodic displays coincides 
with the annual November showers so 
familiar in their occurrence to all, and 



that their point of divergence in the heav- 
ens is the same. Indeed, the ])lienouionou 
of the long interval or period differs from 
that of the annual period only in its 
numerical character. 

The last of these magnificent stellar 
showers — second, perhaps, in grandeur of 
demonstration to that of November, 1833, 
which latter stands solitary in its unsur- 
passed extent and splendor, — occurred 
November fourteenth, 1867, beginning at 
about three o'clock in the morning. At 
half-past three, a meteor of a greenish blue 
color, and about the size of a star of the 
first magnitude, shot out from the direc- 
tion of the constellation Leo, lighting up 
the sky with a long train of crimson fire, 
and traveling in a north-westerly direction. 
It had scarcely faded from the sight, when 
another and equally brilliant, though not 
quite so large, came speeding along in its 
track, and it was followed by fourteen of 
smaller magnitude, one by one, in quick 
succession. At this moment a heavy 
cloud drifted towards the north, and for 
some minutes the spectacle was partially 
lost to view. That the meteors were fall- 
ing rapidlj", however, was plainly evident; 
for, from all points where the mass of 
clouds was thin, occasional meteors flashed 
out, and the frequent lighting up of the 
clouds, as they passed over, left no doubt 
that the mysterious ishenomenon was 
having full Jjlay in the regions be_yond. 

At ten minutes before four o'clock, the 
northern sky again became clear; a thick 
and almost impenetrable cloud passed over 
the moon, partially obscuring its light, 
and thus enabling the observers to view 
with greater distinctness the size and bril- 
lianc}' of the meteors. 

The display was now a most magnifi- 
cent one indeed. The meteors shot out 
from Leo in all directions, and with 
remarkable swiftness traveled across the 
horizon. Sixty-three were counted in one 
minute and ten seconds, of which three 
were of extraordinary size and beauty. 
One of these, of a greenish hue, and fol- 
lowed by a long train of the same color, 
traveled in the direction of Ursa Major, 



SUBLIME METEORIC SHOWER. 



235 



and as it was disappearing in the southern 
horizon, apparently burst, lighting up the 
sky for a great distance on all sides. It 
soon became utterly' impossible to keep any 
correct account of the number falling. 
Eight, ten and twelve sped onwards, on 
their erratic course, at the same moment, 
scarcely disajipearing before others of 
equal splendor took their places. For 
fully twenty minutes they continued to 
fall with the same rapidity, during which 
time, there were counted, exclusive of those 
already' mentioned, tliree liundred and 
thirteen. This number, however, was not 
one-fifth of that which really fell, ap 
observed in New York city. Not less 
than fifteen hundred or two thousand were 
estimated by observers at that city, to 
have radiated from Leo, during this space 
of time, some of which were splendid in 
color and movement. 

One of the meteors constituting this 
display is described as of surpassing 
beauty, size and brilliancy. It radiated 
from Leo, and took a direct northerly 
course toward Ursa Major, followed by a 
long train of a yellowish red hue, which 
spanned the horizon from its point of 
appearance to that of its disappearance. 
This meteor was of the same greenish blue 
color as the others which preceded it. 



and as it passed over about one-half of the 
course traversed, it seemed to burst, and 
then the spectacle was one of extreme 
beauty. Apparently, hundreds of frag- 
ments of an almost blood-red color broke 
from it and scattered in every direction, 
while it continued its course towards the 
north, no longer wearing its greenish-blue 
color, but of one uniform and beautiful 
blue. The panorama it presented was 
exceedingly grand, and lasted about three 
minutes, before the varied colors disap- 
peared and the fire-lit skies resumed their 
wonted serenity. After the appearance of 
this, the display graduall}' died away. 

Although it is doubtful, from the want 
of the requisite data, whether the source 
of the meteors, or the height of the mete- 
oric cloud, has been accurately ascertained, 
yet the truth in regard to the latter may 
be approximated. According to the estab- 
lished laws of falling bodies, the velocity 
the meteors would acquire in falling from 
a point two thousand two hundred and 
thirt^'-eight miles above the earth to within 
fifty miles of its surface — this being con- 
sidered as nearly the height of the atmos- 
phere — is about four miles per second, 
which is more than ten times the maxi- 
mum velocity of a cannon-ball, and about 
nineteen times that of sound ' 



XXIX. 

ATTEMPTED ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT JACKSON, 
AT THE UNITED STATES CAPITOL IN WASHING- 
TON, BY RICHARD LAWRENCE.— 1835. 



Failure of the Pistols to Discharge — The President Rushes Furiously Upon His Assailant, and is 
Restrained from Executing Summary Vengeance only by His Friends. — Political Hostility Supposed, 
at First, to Have Instigated the Act. — Lawrence Proves to be a Lunatic, Without Accomplices. — His 
History and Trial. — Funeral of a Member of Congress. — Great Concourse at the Capitol. — President 
Jackson and Cabinet Present. — Lawrence Enters During the Sermon — Moves to the Eastern Portico. 
— President Jackson Leaves with Secretary Woodbury. — Their Carriage at the Portico Steps. — 
Approach to Lawrence's Position. — He Levels a Pistol at Jackson. — Explosion of the Percussion Cap. 
— A Second Pistol Snapped. — Jackson Raises His Cane Fiercely. — Lion-Like Energy of the Old Hero. 
— Is with Difficulty Kept Back. — Lawrence Stunned and Secured. — His Perfect Calmness Through 
All. — The Crowd Wish to Kill Him. — Fine Appearance of the Assassin. — Frank Avowal of His 
Motives. — Insane Idea Possessing Him. — Claims to be a King. — Is Confined in a Madhouse. 



" Iv«t me go. Bentlcmen 1 I am not afraid— they can't kill m€ 

upon TUB ASSAbBIN. 



-I can protect rayeelf I ' — JACKSON'3 Exclamation whbk Rushiko 



11 



IKE wildfire on the flowing prairie, did the announcement of the attempted 

assassination of President Andrew Jackson, on the 
thirtieth of January, 1835, spread over the country', 
to its furthermost limits. Consternation filled the 
public mind, at the thought that the tragical mode 
of dealing with the crowned heads of kingdoms and 
empires, had at last been tried — though fortunately 
with abortive result — upon the person of the popu- 
larly' elected ruler of a free republic ! 

On the afternoon of the day above-named, while 
President Jackson was in the capitol, in attendance 
on the funeral of the Hon. Warren E. Davis, of 
South Carolina, Richard Lawrence, a painter, 
residing in Washington, attempted to shoot him. This individual was seen 
to enter the hall of the house of representatives during the delivery of the funeral 
sermon ; before its close, however, he had taken his stand on the eastern 
portico, near one oi the columns. The president, with the secretary of the 
treasury on his left arm, on retiring from the rotunda to reach his carriage at the 
steps of the portico, advanced towards the spot where Lawrence stood, — who had his 
pistol concealed under his coat, — and when he approached within two yards and 




THE rRKSEKVATJOy, 

in Washington, 



ATTEMPTED ASSASSINATION OF PEESIDENT JACKSON. 237 



a lialf of him, the assassin extended his 
arm and leveled the pistol at the presi- 
dent's breast. The percussion cap ex- 
T)loded with a noise so great, that several 
witnesses supposed the pistol had fired. 
On the instant, the assassin dropped the 
pistol from his right hand, and taking 
another ready cocked from his left, pre- 
sented and snapped it at the president, 
who at the moment raised his cane and 
made for the assailant with lion-like 
energy, and would have executed summary 
vengeance ; but Secretary Woodbury and 
Lieutenant Gedney at the same instant 
laid hold of the man, who gave way 
through the crowd and was at last knocked 
down, the president pressing after him 
until he saw he was secured. The presi- 
dent's friends then urged him to go to the 
capitol, which the brave-hearted man did, 
with great firmness and self-possession, 
though during the eventful moment the 
president's commanding voice was heard 
above all others, as, tearing himself from 
liis friends and rushing upon the assassin, 
he said, "Let me go, gentlemen, — I am not 
afraid — thetj can't kill me — I can j>rotect 
myself ! " As soon as the act was known 
to the crowd, they wished to kill the assas- 
sin on the spot. 

Lawrence was forthwith carried to jail, 
after a brief preliminary examination 
before Judge Cranch. At this examina- 
tion, Mr. Randolph, sergeant of the house 
of representatives, who attended the mar- 
shal to conduct the prisoner to the city 
hall, gave in testimony that the prisoner, 
when asked by the marshal what motive 
he had to make his horrid attempt, stated 
that the president had killed his fathei'. 
His father was an Englishman who died 
many j'ears ago in Washington. The son 
himself was apprenticed afterwards to a 
Mr. Clark, with whom he lived three years. 
Mr. Clark, when called upon, said that he 
was a young man of excellent habits, sober 
and industrious; that he had seen him 
very frequently, and was well acquainted 
with him since he had left his family, and 
had heard nothing to his disadvantage, 
until, of late, he was informed of his being 



quarrelsome am^ng his friends, and had 
treated one of his sisters badly. 

The total absence of any personal motive 
on the part of the prisoner to commit the 
deed he attempted, suggested the idea that 
he must be insane. But his demeanor 
when committing the act, and on being 
seized, as well as when examined, bore not 
the slightest ajipearance of frenzy, or 
derangement of any sort. When asked 
by the couut if he wished to cross-examine 
the witnesses, or to make explanation, he 
answered in the negative — said that those 
who had seen the act could state the facts 
— and at the conclusion, when asked if he 
had anything to offer, said that he could 
not contradict what had been given in 
evidence. In the midst of the excitement 
and anxiety which prevailed around him, 
Lawrence appeared perfectly calm and 
collected ; and the president, in speaking 
of the event, remarked that Lawrence's 
manner, from the moment his eye caught 
his, was firm and resolved, until the failure 
of his last pistol, when he seemed to shrink, 
rather than resist. 

Lawrence was a handsome j'oung man 
of about thirty-five years, small in stature, 
pale complexion, black hair, dark eyes, 
genteel deportment, and well-dressed. The 
keeper of the rotunda stated that he had 
frequently observed the man about the 
capitol, so frequently that he had endeav- 
ored to draw him into conversation, but 
found him taciturn and unwilling to talk. 
On the day in question, he kept prowling 
about, but did not come within the railing 
near the members' seats; his hand was 
held inside his vest, as if grasping some- 
thing, and his lips were pale and quiver- 
ing. On his pistols being taken from him, 
after the affair, they were found to be a 
very elegant pair, in most excellent order, 
and loaded with powder and ball almost to 
the muzzle, the barrels being about six 
inches long. On examining the load in 
one of the pistols, a ball was drawn out by 
means of a screw, about sixty of which 
balls would have made a pound ; it was 
well packed, and forced down tight on a 
full charge of excellent glazed powder. It 



2o8 ATTEMPTED ASSASSINATION OF PEESIDENT JACKSON. 



was a most astonisliing circumstaDce, 
loaded as tliey were and with percussion 
caps, that the pistols misseil fire. In view 
of this latter fact, Mr. Key, the district 
attorney, and General Hunter, the marshal 
of the district, lost no time in testing the 
actual condition of the weapons, the pistol 
still loaded being first tried, by putting on 
another cap. The tube of this pistol 
showed the powder at its summit. Gen- 
eral Hunter, by inclining the pistol, threw 
out a few grains of the powder in his 
hand. They took from a box of caps found 



each of the pistols, ."-everal times, without 
ta'ving any other means of forcing the 
powder into the tubes than that of ram- 
ming home small paper wads on the 
charges. Tlie discharge of the weapons 
took effect on every trial. So great was 
the excitement produced by the affair, 
that some of the most eminent political 
opponents of the president, including such 
men as Claj', Calhoun, Poindexter, White, 
and others, were, in the frenzy of the 
moment, suspected of having conspired in 
a plot to get rid of the jiresident! 

In 




ATTEMI'TEU ASSASSINATION 

in Lawrence's shop without selecting it, 
one, which was placed upon the tube. On 
Major Donelson firing it, the ball passed 
through an inch plank, at a distance of 
about five or six yards, and lodged, nearly 
buried, in the opposite side of the enclos- 
ure, six or seven yards distant. They 
then loaded with a small quantity of the 
powder found in the prisoner's possession. 



OF PRESIDENT JACKSON. 

It was ascertained that, some time pre- 
viou;;, Lawrence had formed an attachment 
to a j'oung lady, and frequently told his 
sister that he would bj' his industry soon 
be enabled to buy a corner lot near her, 
and build on it a good house, when he 
would marry the object of his attachment ; 
and, with this view, he labored diligentlj', 
day and night, until he had by him about 



ATTEMPTED ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT JACKSON. 239 



eight hundred dollars. He was disap- 
pointed — became extremely pensive— quit 
all employment — and would stand for 
hours in a little parlor, gazing upon tlie 
spot which he had selected as his future 
residence. Up to this time, he was quiet, 
kind and affectionate. 

His brother-in-law, with whom he lived, 
endeavored to persuade Lawrence to 
resume his work — he said that he would 
go to England, that he had something of 
great importance which demanded his 
presence, and in the fall of 1833 went to 
New York for the purpose of taking pas- 
sage from that port. During the winter 
he returned, saying that he found the 
papers filled with notices of his contem- 
plated enterprise, and that he could get no 
captain to take him on board. In the 
spring of 1834, he again went as far as 
Philadelphia, put up at the Mansion House, 
kept his room, or else would stand for 
hours on the porch, engaged in deep 
thought, without speaking to any one. 
After a few days he returned to Washing- 
ton, and said that he found his purpose of 
going to England was known, that none of 
the captains would consent to take him on 
hoard, but that he would soon have a vessel 
of his own — that he had engaged men who 
would put all things right. About this 
time he became very quarrelsome, and liis 
relatives were afraid to keep him in the 
house. His brother-in-law endeavored 
again to induce him to go to work, which 
he obstinately refused to do, saj-ing that 
his hands would do no more work — that 
others might work, but, as for him, he 
would soon have money enough. At 
length, he committed an assault upon his 
sister, for which he was handed over to the 
officers of justice, and lodged in jail. The 
case was carried before the grand jurj', 
only a short time previous to the assault 
on the president, and, after an examina- 
tion of witnesses who knew him, the grand 
jury refused to find a bill against him, on 
the ground of his insanity. 

In a conversation between Lawrence 
and some visitors, held soon after the rash 
act, the following curious statements were 



made by the prisoner, in reply to the 
questions put to him : 

" What object had you in view in shoot- 
ing the president ? " 

"About ten days before making the 
attempt, I called on the president at his 
house, and stated to him that I was in 
want of money, and wished him to give a 
check for it. The president made no par- 
ticular objection to this demand, but stated 
that Mr. Dibble wished to see him, and 
that I must call again." 

"Do you suppose the president knew of 
your intention to kill him ? " 

'• He must have known what my inten- 
tion was, if he did not comply with my 
wishes." 

" Why did you call upon the president 
witli such a demand ? " 

" Because he knew, as I supposed every 
person did, the true situation of things. 
The president is my clerk, and I have 
control over his money and his bank, and 
the sword ; and if he refused to comply, 
he knew the consequences." 

" By what means did you expect to 
enforce compliance with j-our wishes, and 
how much money did you expect to get ? " 

"The president knew I had the right to 
the money, and, if he refused, that I had 
the right to kill him. One or two thou- 
sand dollars would have satisfied me, but 
I would have accepted three or four hun- 
dred." 

" How came the president to know that 
you had the right ? " 

"Because there was an understanding, 
and it would have been taking th« law in 
his own hands to refuse." 

" Did you expect any aid in your under- 
taking to kill the president?" 

"No, I needed none. I have the right 
to the crown of England. It has always 
been in my ancestors. They were deprived 
of it by force. My father was then re- 
duced to labor, and had to drive a coal cart 
in England. He was fond of hunting, 
riding, and shooting, and was frequently 
called on by noblemen and persons of dis- 
tinction, notwithstanding his reduced cir- 
cumstances." 



240 ATTEMPTED ASSASSINATION OF PEESIDENT JACKSON. 



"How came General Jackson to get the 
power over your rights and money '! " 

" The first cause was what took place 
at Orleans. He leagued in with Lord 
Wellington, and the consequence was, that 
out of twenty-five thousand English sol- 
diers sent over, only a small remnant was 
left ; with the aid of cotton-bags fixed by 
Jackson, they were wasted away. A 
number of officers were drafted for this 
campaign, among them Pakenham and 
Gibbs, and they were killed. This is the 
unjust treatment my father received on 
that occasion, and it is my business to put 
things right — I have the power — Jackson 
is my clerk — he knew what would be the 
consequence of refusing to obey." 

" If you were now set at liberty, would 
you endeavor to go on with your determin- 
ation ? " 

" After a while, I should call on the 
president for the monej', and if he refused, 
I would pursue the same plan I did 
before." 

On the d.ay appointed for the trial of 
Lawrence, he appeared in court dressed in 
a gray coat, black cr.avat and vest, and 
brown pantaloons. His conduct was that of 
a man perfectly at his ease, and collected, 
though his eyes showed indications of 
mania, and there was an evident assump- 
tion of kingly dignity in his demeanor 
and the expression of his countenance. 
He took his seat, however, very quietly by 
the side of his counsel, and conversed 
smilingly with them. That his appear- 
ance was decidedly handsome and prepos- 
sessing, was the opinion universally ex- 
pressed. 

The witnesses having been called into 
court, Mr. Key, the prosecuting attornej', 
commenced some observations to the 
bench, when — up jumped Lawrence from 
his chair, under evident excitement of 
mind, and said he wished to know whether 
it was correct to bring him or not ? He 
claimed the crown of Great Britain, he 
said, and also that of the United States ; 
and he wished to know if they could bring 
him there ? The judge desired him to 
take his seat, and to allow his counsel to 



manage his case for him. Lawrence com- 
plied, but still continued the subject, in 
conversation with his counsel. The latter 
now inquired of the court, whether, as this 
was simply the case of a misdemeanor, the 
presence of the prisoner, considering his 
state of mind, might not be dispensed with. 
Lawrence again rose, and addressed the 
court, saying, " I wish to know, if, having, 

as I have, the sword ." He was again 

stopped. His counsel once more, but still 
without success, appealed to the bench 




RICHARD LAWRENCE. 



to allow the prisoner to be removed, 
saying that he had done all he could to 
quiet the man's feelings, but had not been 
able to present any course of which he 
would make choice. The judge replied, 
that it was always customary for the pris- 
oner to be in court, in cases like this; he 
wished the trial to proceed in the ordinary 
way. On proceeding to call the panel, the 
following passage ensued : 

" I observe," said Lawrence, " that a 
jury has been called. I wish to know if 
this is correct. I certainly am king ! " 

" You must sit down," commanded the 
judge, "and be quiet, Mr. Lawrence, until 
called on to answer." 

Lawrence sat down ; but not until he 
had reiterated the assertion that he was 
king of Great Britain, and likewise of 
America, and that he was protected by the 
law in his claim. 

On the examination of witnesses, Sec- 
retary Woodbury testified as follows : On 
the occasion of the funeral ceremony which 
took place in the hall of the house of rep- 
resentatives, in consequence of the death 
of one of its members, I attended, together 



ATTEMPTED ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT JACKSON. 241 



with the president and other officers of the 
government ; had listened to the funeral 
service in the hall; left it; the president 
being on my right arm, had passed through 
the rotunda, and through the eastern door, 
■where we came rather to a halt — being in 
the rear, — in consequence of the delay 
occasioned by the gentlemen who had pre- 
ceded us getting into the coaches. We 
had perhaps passed some two or three steps 
on to the portico, when I heard a noise 
like the discharge of a pistol; "looked 
round directly, and there saw a person, 
about six or eight feet, a little obliquelj' to 
the left, who was just in the act of lower- 
ing his hand when my eje caught him. 
Ifc was the prisoner at the bar. Saw him 
distinctly when I turned, and saw the 
pistol in his hand ; presumed he was the 
person who fired. It was directed right 
towards the president. At first I doubted 
whether it was not myself who was aimed 
at, but saw that it was towards the presi- 
dent, who was on mj' right ; turned to the 
president to see if he was injured, and, 
seeing that he was not, I turned to look 
for the prisoner. He was then in the act 
of raising his hand again ; had something 
in it ; presumed it was a pistol. I gave a 
pull from the president's arm and sprang 
towards the prisoner, seized him by the 
collar, and at that moment the second 
explosion took place. Other persons had 
previously got hold of him, which proceed- 
ing appeared to have rather put him out of 
his first position ; they continued to pull 
him, with some violence, in a somewhat 
opposite direction. Seeing he was secured, 
and that there was reason to believe he 
had no other weapon, I let go my hold to 
learn what was the state of the president. 
The prisoner was dragged forwards towards 
the front of the piazza. I saw no more of 
him until I saw him here an hour after. 
Found the president in the crowd, and went 
home with him. 

Secretary Dickerson stated the circum- 
stances of the assault, as observed by him, 
to be as follows : I went with other gentle- 
men of the cabinet, to the capitol, on the 

day of the funeral of the Hon. W. E. 
^ 16 



Diivis. After the service in the hall, the 
procession moved forward towards the 
eastern colonnade, there being a great 
crowd. I was a little to the rear of the 
president, and at the door of the colonnade 
there was a halt, which brought me up 
nearly to his side. I had advanced, I 
think, .about two steps from the door, when 
I heard the discharge of a pocket pistol ; 
have certainly heard such pistols dis- 
charged without making a louder report — 
it being in the colonnade might have 
incrckased the sound. On turning my eye, 
I saw that some men had laid hold of an 
individual. I was to the left of the presi- 
dent, and saw Lieutenant Gedney, who 
seemed to be trying to get the man down, 
but I could not see the man. It was some 
seconds before the prisoner could get at 
his other pistol, and when he did, from his 
altered position, he had to throw his arm 
over to get aim at the president. The 
latter must have been struck, had a dis- 
charge taken place. In an instant from 
this time, the prisoner was crushed to the 
floor, but was soon raised again. Mr. 
Gillet, a member of congress from New 
York state, a very strong man, had hold 
of him, as also had Lieutenant Gedney. 
I looked at the prisoner, and kept my eye 
on him, so as to be certain of his identity. 
About the instant the second explosion 
took place, the president had lifted his 
stick to strike the prisoner, but made no 
blow, being prevented by his friends. The 
crowd coming out at the door was very 
great. The president spoke angrily to 
those who prevented him from getting 
at Lawrence, saying, " Let me alone ! 
Let me alone ! " I recollect hearing 
him also say, " he knew where this came 
from ! " 

After some further evidence on the part 
of the prosecution, the prisoner's counsel 
asked permission of the judges that Law- 
rence might leave the court, saying that it 
was painful to them all to have him 
remain — particularly so to himself, as his 
counsel, — and the law did not require his 
presence. Lawrence now rose, and ad- 
dressed the judges wildly, saying — 



242 ATTEMPTED ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT JACKSON. 



" What I have done to Jackson, was on 
account of money which lie owes me. I 
went there for that purpose. I consider 
all in this court as under me. The United 
States bank has owed me money ever since 
1802, and I want my money. I must 
have my revenue from that hank. You 
are under me, gentlemen. (Mr. Wood- 
ward, the deputy-marsh.il, endeavoring to 
prevail on him to resume his seat, Law- 
rence turned round, indignantly, and said, 
'Mr. Woodward! mind ijour own business, 
or I shall treat you ivith severity!') It is 
for me, gentlemen, to pass upon you, and 
not j'ou upon me." 

Again did the counsel appeal to the 
feelings of the court to spare itself, and 
the jury, this painful exhibition, by per- 
mitting Lawrence to depart in custody of 
the marshal. He, the counsel, felt, for his 
own part, that he could not do justice to 
the cause of the prisoner, if he sat beside 
him ; the very fact, that he should take a 
course in the defense of the prisoner with 
which he was displeased, would jjrevent it. 
The court replied, that L.awi'ence should 
remain until proven to be insane; he 
would, however, be permitted to withdraw, 
if it was his own wish so to do. The 
unfortunate maniac here shouted out — 

" I deny the power of the court to try 
me — I am my own man — I will have my 
revenue ! " 

Lawrence's counsel here endeavored to 
soothe him, by telling him he should have 
his rights. "Ay, but when?" " To- 
daj-," replied his counsel ; and he sat down, 
contentedly, on this assurance. 

It was, of course, not at all difficult for 
the prisoner's counsel to prove his insanity 
and consequent irresponsibleness. Mr. 
Redfern, who married Lawrence's sister, 
testified on this point, to the following 
effect : I have known Lawrence for sixteen 
years, and first observed a change in him 
in 1833. In the fall of 1832 he left Wash- 
ington with the intention, he said, of going 
to England; he went in November, and 
returned again in December, assigning as 
a reason, iiiat the weather was cold. In 
the spring of the next year, he started 



again to go to New York or Philadelphia, 
but he certainly got no farther than Phila- 
delphia ; on his return this time, he said the 
people would not let him go, that the gov- 
ernment opposed his going, that I and 
others had prevented him ; that he should 
not be able to go until he got a ship and 
captain of his own, — that, when he got to 
Philadelphia, he found all the papers so 
full about him, that ho was obliged to 
come back. After this, he remained in 
my house six mouths, but did nothing, 
saying he had no occasion to labor, that he 
lived on his people, — it was very well for 
men such as me to work, but he had no 
such need, that he had large claims on this 
government which were now before con- 
gress. He used to attend congress regu- 
larly. In Januarj', 1834, he left my 
house, but, previous to this, had got quar- 
relsome with his sister, said the colored 
girl laughed at him and that he would kill 
her, and that other people also laughed at 
him. He struck all his sisters on several 
occasions, and once took up a four-pound 
weight to throw at vay wife. I have seen 
him pass since this time, but never have 
spoken to him since 1833 ; he would go 
about the house, without speaking, for 
days together, but would talk and laugh 
to himself continually in his own chamber. 
It was the general impression of the neigh- 
bors, that Lawrence was insane from the 
beginning of 1833. 

The question being put to Mr. Redfern, 
as to whether Lawrence held two estates 
in Ireland, the answer was in the negar 
tive. On asking Lawrence the names ol 
his estates, he replied, very gravely, "Tre- 
gear and Kinnany ! and the ^re attached 
to the crown of England ! " - i- 

Similar in its bearing, was the testi 
monj' of Mr. Drurj', who had known Law- 
rence twenty-five years, and who stated 
the following facts : For the last 3'ear I 
have observed a change in his conduct ; he 
would talk to himself continually in his 

shop, sometimes saying, ' him, he 

does not know his enemy ; I will put a 
pistol — erect a gallows.' He conceived 
himself to be King Richard the Third, of 



ATTEMPTED ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT JACKSON. 



243 



England, and likewise king of this coun- 
trj' ; this was about the latter end of last 
December, or the beginning of January, 
after which, I heard him say, ' Gen- 
eral Jackson ! who's General Jackson ? ' 
On one occasion a black boy called to col- 
lect a bill, and Lawrence said he would 
call and pay it ; but, as soon as the boy 

had left, he said, ' him! he don't 

know who he's dunning ! ' He would 
stand at the door for hours, wrapt in 
thought, and, even when I passed, he took 
no notice of me. He was continually 
talking to himself, and would now and then 
burst into fits of laughter. I noticed no 
particular change in him as to dress — he 
was always fond of dress, — but I did in his 
conduct and appearance. I have often 
said he was a crazy man, and have heard 
others say so ; the boys would call him 
' King Richard.' On the morning of his 
attack on the president, he came to the 
shop at the usual time, and went to a place 
where I could see him through a partition ; 
he was sitting on a chest, with a book in 
his hand, laughing. I heard soon after 
the lid of the chest fall, and heard him 

say, ' I'll be if I don't do it ! ' He 

then came out, left the shop, and locked 
the door. Lawrence did some little work 
within the last twelve months, and had a 
shop. I had a room adjoining this. 

Much testimony of the same purport as 
the preceding was brought forward, and 
nothing of a conflicting character pre- 
sented itself. The law, in criminal cases, 



says that the existence of reason is neces- 
sary to constitute punishable crime — its 
deprivation renders the individual dispun- 
ishable. Acting upon this ground, several 
physicians were examined as to their opin- 
ion of Lawrence's condition, judging from 
the facts drawn out by the evidence, and 
their personal interviews with the prisoner. 
Their testimony was unanimous in de- 
claring Lawrence's state of mind to be 
that of morbid delusion, — not possessing a 
judgment of right and wrong, especially as 
to anything connected with General Jack- 
son, — and therefore not to be treated as a 
moral agent. Among the physicians who 
expressed this as their decided opinion, 
were Messrs. Coussin and Thomas Sewell, 
two of^ the most eminent in their profes- 
sion. 

In accordance with the evidence thus 
given, the jury were out only five minutes, 
returning at once with a verdict of "Not 
guiltj', he having been under the influence 
of insanity at the time of committing the 
act." But, long before the trial and its 
termination, the intense excitement pro- 
duced by the act, throughout the countrj', 
had almost entirely subsided, — the first 
impression, that the horrid deed had been 
prompted by secret political conspiracy, 
under partisan instigation, rapidly dying 
away, as the true character of the man and 
his unaided deed became known. Law- 
rence was sent to a lunatic asylum, where 
he remained an 'nmate thirty or forty 
years. 



XXX. 

MORSE'S INVENTION OF THE ELECTRIC TELEGRAPH, 1835. 



Realizatioa of the Highest Ideal of a Mechanical Miracle. — Principle, Structure, and Operation of the 
Machine. — Net-worit of Lines Established Over the Four Continents. — Tlie Inventor's Experiments, 
Labors, Discouragements, and Triumphs — " Orders of Glory," Gifts, and other Honors, Uestowed 
Upon Him by Crowned Heads. — Casual Origin of the Invention. — Mr. M.'s European Voyage in 1832, 
— Recent French Experiments then Discussed. — Important Question and Answer. — Two Great Ex- 
isting Facts. — The Electric Spark Transmissive. — Easy Control of the Current. — Theory Applied to 
Practice. — Completion of a Crude Model. — Private Exhibition in 1835. — Simplicity of the Instru- 
ment. — The Invention Made Public in 1837. — Wonder and Incredulity. — Appeal to Congress for 
Pecuniary Aid. — Merciless Ridicule Ensues — Scene in the Committee-Room. — A Machine at the 
Capitol. — Perfect in its Operation. — Success of Morse's Appeal. — His Joy at the Decision. — Putting 
up tha Wires to Baltimore. — First Message Througli. 



"Thatateert caUert *Lightnini;' (any the Fatea) 
la owurtl hi the I niti-<l Stut^'S: 
•Twaa Franklin'a haml tliQC canpht the horbc; 
'Twaa liurucsaed by Prolvaaur AKr-.e.'* 




HASGINO THE TELEGRAPH WIRE, 



INGS and courts, presidents and cabinets, have 
united in doing honor to that illustrious American 
citizen, who, more than any other man of liis race, 
has realized to the human mind its highest ideal, or 
conception, of a mechanical miracle, through human 
agency. It is not claimed that, previous to Profes- 
sor Morse's achievement, the possibility of applying 
electricity to telegraphic communication had not oc- 
cupied other minds, but that to him belongs the 
high merit of having effected, after years of patient 
- ^': y. j/Jf' study and ingenious experiment, 
a practical application of the great 
scientific principle involved. 

In the year 1829, Mr. Morse, 
who was then an artist of much 
celebrity, having, more than fifteen 
years previously, exhibited before 
the Royal Academy of England his 
picture of " The Dying Hercules," 
of colossal size, made a second pro- 
fessional visit to Europe, where he 
remained three years ; and it was 
this visit which proved, through a 
casual circumstance, of so much 
importance to himself, to science 
and the world, — for it was on his 
return in 1832, on board the ship 
Sully, that he made that great dis- 
covery, to which is due the present 
./ii>'' system of telegraphing. A gentle- 



MORSE'S INVENTION OF THE TELEGRAPH. 



2ii 



man on board had been describing some 
experiments made in Paris with the 
electro-magnet, and the question arose as 
to the time occupied by the fluid in pass- 
ing through the wire, stated to be one hun- 
dred feet in length. On the reply that it 
was instantaneous. Professor Morse (recol- 
lecting the experiments of Franklin,) 
suggested that it might be carried to any 
distance instantly, and that the electric 
spark could be made a means of conveying 
and recording intelligence. Here was the 
idea, but a greater triumph was the appli- 
cation of the theory to practice, which he 
successfully accomplished, after much 
study and multitudinous trials, in New 
York, where, in 1835, he j)ut i/i operation 
the viodel of his recordinr/ electrio tele- 
graph. 

Professor Morse's discovery was based 
on these two principal facts, namel}^ : that 
a current of electricity will pass to any dis- 
tance along a conductor connecting the two 
poles of a voltaic battery, and produce 
visible effects at any desired points on that 
conductor; also, that magnetism is pro- 
duced in a piece of soft iron, around which 
the conductor, in its progress, is made to 
pass, when the electric current is permit- 
ted to flow, and that the magnetism ceases 
when the current of electricity is prevented 
from flowing. Hence, if the end of a soft 
iron lever be placed beneath the iron to 
be magnetized, it can be made to rise and 
fall as the electricity flows, or is inter- 
rupted. The other end of the lever, having 
a point in it, maj' be made to press on a 
strip of paper or not, at the will of the 
operator. This point may be made to im- 
press a dot or a line, at pleasure. A dot 
and a line may represent letters, and by 
different combinations of dots and lines 
any letter of the alphabet could be repre- 
sented. The operator in one city could 
make the apparatus in another city, at any 
distance, write what he pleased, by break- 
ing and closing the circuit at longer or 
shorter intervals. 

The invention, as thus devised by Pro- 
fessor Morse, and as described in a popular 
way by Antisell, Bakewell and others, 



is a recording instrument, that embosse* 
the sj'mbols upon paper, with a point 
jjressed down upon it by an electro-magnet ; 
the symbols that form the alphabet con- 
sisting of combinations of short and long 
strokes, and made to stand for different 
letters, by their repetitions and variations. 
Thus a stroke followed by a dot signifies 
the first letter of the alphabet ; a stroke 
preceded by a dot, the second letter ; a 
single dot, the third letter ; and in this 
manner the whole alphabet could easily be 
indicated, the number of repetitions in no 
case exceeding four for each letter, — the 
letters and words being distinguished from 
one another by a longer space being left 
between them than between each mark 
that forms only a part of a letter or of a 
word. 

Simplicity characterized this instrument 
in an eminent degree. The transmitter is 
merely a spring kej', like that of a musical 
instrument, which, on being pressed down, 
makes contact with the voltaic battery, 
and sends an electric current to the receiv- 
ing station. The operator at the trans- 
mitting station, by thus making contact, 
brings into action an electro-magnet at the 
station he communicates with, and that pulls 
down a point fixed to the soft-iron lever 
upon a strip of paper that is kept mov- 
ing by clock-work slowly under it. The 
duration of the pressure on the key, 
whether instantaneous or prolonged for a 
moment, occasions the difference in the 
lengths of the lines indented on the paper. 
A single circuit is sufficient for the pur- 
pose, as well as very effective. 

As the working of this telegraph depends 
iipon bringing into action at the receiving 
station an electro-magnet of force equal to 
mechanically indenting paper, and as the 
resistance to the passage of electricity 
along the wires diminishes the quantity 
transmitted so greatly, that at long dis- 
tances it was supposed to be almost 
impossible to obtain sufficient power for 
the purpose, if it acted directly, — to over- 
come this difficulty, an auxiliary electro- 
magnet was cmplo_yed. The electro- 
magnet which is directly in connection 



J 



246 



MOKSE'S INVENTION OF THE TELEGRAPH. 



with the telegr.apli wire is .1 small one, 
surrounded by about five hundred yards 
or more of very line wire, for the purpose 
of multiplying as much as possible the 
effect of the feeble current that is trans- 
mitted. The soft-iron keeper, which is 
attracted by the magnet, is also very light, 
so that it may be the more readily attracted. 
This highly sensitive instrument serves to 
make and break contact with a local bat- 
tery, which brings into action a large 
electro-magnet, and as the local battery 
and the magnet are close to the place 
where the work is to be done, any required 
force may be easily obtained. 

The batteries used are Grove's zinc and 
platinum, and two liquids ; any number of 
these may be used. To form the electric 




THE ORIGINAL INSTRUMENT. 

circuit, one end of a copper wire is attached 
to the end platina plate, and the other 
end of the copper wire to the zinc cylinder. 
A wire is not required to run round all 
the circuit — any metallic connection, such 
as brass plates, etc., may form part of it. 
In the practical working of the telegraph, 
— the battery with the key attached, and 
a small table, being supposed, for example, 
to be at the Philadelphia station, and the 
telegraph register to be at New York, — 
a wire runs from the platina plate up to 
the metallic binding screw connection on 



the small table, and the other wire runs 
from the zinc, and is connected by the first 
wire by the metallic connection of the 
register at New York. This forms the 
circuit. The key is fixed upon a pivot 
axis, to be gently pressed by the operator's 
fingers on the top of an ivory button. 
The circuit is now broken, and a small gap 
in the key above the wire from the battery 
shows the metallic connection to be open. 
By pressing upon the butt end of the key, 
its metal surface comes in contact with the 
metal termination of the wire from the 
battery, and then the circuit is closed, and 
the electric fluid fleets along to the distant 
station. 

In connection with the register, there 
is, as has already been stated, a strip or 
ribbon of paper passing from the roll 
between two small metal rollers of the 
register. This strip is drawn through 
between the rollers by their motion, they 
revolving towards the paper roll, drawing 
in the paper, — motion being given to these 
rollers by a train of clock-work gear wheels, 
moved by the weight below the machine. 
The upper small roll has a small groove run- 
ning around its periphery, and the ribbon 
of paper is drawn through against its 
under surface. The instrument for in- 
denting the paper is suspended on a 
pivot axis at its middle, and its action is 
like a walking-beam, though the stroke 
made is very short. This pen-lever is 
very nicely poised, and at its extreme end 
from the j^aper its stroke is neatly regu- 
lated by a set or button screw. The metal 
pen is attached to the lever and fixed on a 
j)ivot like a walking-beam. When one 
end is drawn down, the other end flies up, 
and, having a steel point on it, it marks 
the strip of paper, already described as 
running along a roller, and which is drawn 
along between other two rollers. Then, 
by letting the other end of this pen 
come up, the steel point drops, and 
then it is thrown up again, leaving a space 
between the two marks on the paper. As, 
therefore, the paper is always moving and, 
as the point is held to it for a longer or 
shorter time, marks are made — as before 



MORSE'S INVENTION OF THE TELEGRAPH. 



247 



explained — of dots, spaces and dashes, and 
by a combination of these the whole 
alphabet is formed, the letters made into 
words, and the words into sentences. The 
electro-magnet is fitted with an armature, 
whose attraction and withdrawal gives 
motion to the lever. Instead of reading 
off from the strip of paper, operators in 
dme trusted to sound. 

But, though Professor Morse exhibited 
the model of his recording apparatus in 
1835 and 1836, it was not until after some 
years' additional toil that he brought it to 
the alx)ve-described efficiency and its sub- 
sequent improvement and perfection. He 
made no efforts to bring the matter 
definitely before the public until the 
autumn of 1837, when, in its advanced 
state of completion, he exhibited to an 
appreciating and wonder-struck auditory, 
its marvelous operation. The announce- 
ment of the invention and its astonishing 
capacity, was for a long time the most 
prominent theme of public and private 
discussion, admiration being largely min- 
gled with blank incredulity, and not a little 
ridicule. Even in congress, on the appli- 
cation of Professor Morse for government 
aid, to enable him to demonstrate the value 
of his invention by constructing a line 
between Washington and Baltimore, in 
1838, there were not found wanting learned 
legislators who treated the idea as a mere 
chimera. It was the same congress of 
which Esjjy, the " Storm King," was 
asking assistance, to test his favorite 
theory, then so prominently discussed. 

Both Morse and Espy, says a writer of 
that time and the event, became the butt 
of ridicule, the target of merciless 
arrows of wit. They were voted down- 
right bores, and the idea of giving them 
money was pronounced farcical. They 
were considered monomaniacs, and as such 
w^ere laughed at, punned upon, and made 
the standing staple for jokes. One morn- 
ing, however, a gentleman rose from his 
seat in the house — quite to the astonish- 
ment of everybody, for he had never been 
known to speak before, unless it was to 
vote or to address the speaker, — and said. 



" I hold in my hand a resolution, which I 
respectfully offer for the consideration of 
the house." In a moment a page was at 
his desk, and the resolution was trans- 
ferred to the speaker and by him delivered 
to the clerk, who read as follows : 
" Resolved, That the committee of ways 
and means be instructed to inquire into 
the expediency of appropriating $30,000, 
to enable Professor Morse to establish a 
line of telegrajth between Washington and 
Baltimore." The gentleman who offered 
it was Mr. Ferris, one of the New York 
representatives, a man of wealth and 
learning, but modest, retiring, and diffi- 
dent. 

This being merely a resolution of 
inquiry, it passed without opposition, and, 
out of regard to the mover, without com- 
ment. In time, it came before the com- 
mittee, all the members of which had, by 
their public services and brilliant talents, 
acquired a national reputation. The clerk 
of the committee read the resolution. 
The chairman, Mr. Fillmore, in a clear, 
distinct voice, said, " Gentlemen, what 
disposition shall be made of it ? " There 
was a dead pause around the table. No 
one seemed inclined to take the initiative. 
It was expected that, inasmuch as the 
mover of the resolution in the house was a 
democrat, the democratic side of the com- 
mittee would stand god-father to it there. 
But not a bit of it. They felt that the 
whole thing was preposterous and deserv- 
ing of no countenance. At length, one on 
the other side broke the ominous silence 
by moving that the committee instruct 
the chairman to report a bill to the house, 
appropriating thirty thousand dollars for 
the purpose named in the resolution. 

This movement "brought them all up 
standing ! " No speeches were made. 
The question was called for. The yeas 
and nays were taken alphabeticallv, and, 
as four had voted on the affirmative side, 
and four on the negative, it fell to the lot 
of Governor Wallace, of Indiana, whose 
name came last on the list, to decide the 
question. He, however, had paid no atten- 
tion to the matter, and, like the majority of 



248 



MORSE'S INVENTION OF THE TELEGRAPH. 



people, considered it a great humbug. He 
had not the faintest idea of the importance 
to his country, of the vote he was to cast. 
But as fortune would have tt, the thought 
came to mind that Mr. Morse was even 
then experimenting in the capitol with the 
" new-fangled invention," having stretched 
a wire from the basement story to the 
ante-room of the senate chamber. It was 
therefore in Governor Wallace's power to 
satisfy himself at once in regard to the 
question of feasibility, and he determined 
to try it. He asked leave to consider his 
vote. This was granted. He imme- 
diately stepped out of the committee room, 
and went to the ante-chamber, which was 
found crowded with representatives and 
strangers. Governor Wallace requested 
permission to put a question to the " mad- 
man " (Morse) at the other end of the 
wire. It was granted immediately. He 




^^^<^z^ tX%/. /^^^t^TTtTe.^ t 



c - 

wrote the question and handed it to the 
telegrapher. The crowd cried "read! 
read! " In a very short time the answer 
was received. When written out by the 
operator, the same cry of " read it ! read 
it ! " went up from the crowd. 

To his utter astonishment. Governor 
Wallace found that the madman at that end 



of the wire had more wit and force than the 
congressmen at the other — the laugh was 
turned completely upon tho committee-man. 
But, as western men are rarely satisfied 
with one fall — not less than two failures 
out of three attempts forcing from tliem 
any acknowledgment of defeat, — the 
governor put a second question, and there 
came a second answer. If the first raised 
a laugh at his expense, the second convert- 
ed that laugh into a roar and a shout. 
He was more than satisfied. Picking up 
his hat, he bowed himself out of the 
crowd, the good-natured shout following 
him as he passed along the passages and 
halls of the capitol. 

As a matter of course. Governor W^allace 
voted in the affirmative of the motion then 
pending before the committee, and it 
prevailed. The chairman reported the 
bill, the house and senate concurred in its 
passage, and thus was Professor Morse 
successful in this his last struggle to 
demonstrate the practicability of — as 
it has proved — the most amazing in- 
vention of the age, the electro-mag- 
netic telegraph. If the committee had 
ignored the proposition, there is no 
telling what would liave been the result. 
That the experiment would have been 
finally made, no one can entertain a 
doubt. But when or by whom is the 
question. It was not within the range 
of ordinary individual fortune to make 
it, and, if it was, none but Professor 
Morse would have hazarded it. 

It appears, however, that Professor 
Morse came to the last stage of discour- 
agement, in the prosecution of his appeal 
to congress, before light finally broke 
in upon him. On the very last day of 
the session, the bill relating to his 
case was the one hundred and twenti- 
eth on the senate docket, to be acted upon 
in course. Concerning this scene, a 
writer in Harper's Monthly states, that 
during the entire day Professor Morse 
watched the course of legislation from the 
gallery with nervous trepidation and the 
deepest anxiety. At length, worn out 
by the interminable discussion of some 



MORSE'S INVENTION OF THE TELEGRAPH. 



249 



senator who seemed to he speaking 
against time, and overcome by his 
prolonged watching, he left the gallery at 
a late hour and went to his lodgings, 
under the belief that it was not possible 
his bill could be reached, and that he must 
again turn his attention to those labors of 
the brush and easel by means of which he 
might be enabled to prosecute appeals to 
congress at a future time. He accordingly 
made his preparations to return to New 
York on the following morning, and 
retiring to rest, sank into a profound 
slumber, from which he did not awake 
until a late hour on the following morn- 
ing. But a short time after, while seated 
at the breakfast-table, the servant an- 
nounced that a lady desired to see him. 
Upon entering the parlor, he found Miss 
Annie Ellsworth, the daughter of the 
Commissioner of Patents, whose face was 
all aglow with pleasure. 

'' I have come to congratulate you," she 
remarked, as he entered the room, and 
approached to shake hands with her. 

" To congratulate me ! " rejilied Mr. 
Morse, " and for wliat ? " 

" Wliij, upon the passage of your hill, 
to he sure," she replied. 

" You must surely be mistaken ; for I 
left at a late hour, and its fate seemed 
inevitable." 

"Indeed I am not mistaken," she re- 
joined ; " father remained until the close 
of the session, and your bill was the very 
last that was acted on, and I begged 
permission to convey to you the news. 
I am so happy that I am the first to tell 
you." 

The feelings of Professor Morse may be 
better imagined than described. He 
grasped his young companion warmly by 
the hand, and thanked her over and over 
again for the joyful intelligence, saying — 

" As a reward for being the first bearer 
of this news, you shall send over the tele- 
graph the first message it conveys." 

" I will hold you to that promise," 
replied she ; " Remember ! " 

"Remember!" responded Professor 
Morse ; and they parted. 



The plans of Mr. Morse were now alto- 
gether changed. His journej' homeward 
was abandoned, and he set to work to carry 
out the project of establishing the line of 
electro-telegraph, between Washington and 
Baltimore, authorized by the bill. His 
first idea was to convey the wires, inclosed 
in a leaden tube, beneath the ground. He 
had already arranged a plan by which the 
wires, insulated by a covering of cotton 
saturated in gum shellac, were to be 
inserted into leaden pipes in the process 
of casting. But after the expenditure of 
several thousand dollars, and much delay 
this plan was given up, and the one now 
in use, of extending them on poles, 
adopted. 

By the month of May, 1844, the whole 
line was laid, and magnets and recording 
instruments were attached to the ends of 
the wires at Mount Clare Depot, Balti- 
more, and at the supreme court chamber, 
in the capitol at Washington. When the 
circuit was complete, and the signal at the 
one end of the line was responded to by 
the operator at the other, Mr. Morse sent 
a messenger to Miss Ellsworth to inform 
her that the telegraph awaited her mes- 
sage. She speedily responded to this, and 
sent for transmission the following, which 
was the first formal dispatch ever sent 
through a telegraphic wire connecting 
remote places with each other : 

" What hath God wrought ! " 

The original of the message is now in 
'ihe archives of the Historical Societj' at 
Hartford Connecticut. The practicability 
and utility of the invention were now 
clearly and firmly established. 

Of the subsequent history and triumphs 
of this invention, it is scarcely necessary 
here to speak. The lines of telegraphic 
communication which now, like a web, 
traverse the length and breadth of the 
republic, and which, indeed, connect and 
cover as with a ne' work the four conti- 
nents of the globe,--these attest the vast- 
ness, influence and power, of this amazing 
invention. Nor is it necessary to specify 
the details of those various mechanical 
improvements in the construction and 



250 



MOESE'S INVENTION OF THE TELEGEAPH. 



working of the apparatus, as also its diver- 
sified adaptation, brought forward by the 
fertile genius of Morse, as well as by 
House, Hughes, Phelps, Shaffner, O'Eeilly, 
Vail, Farmer, Page, Hicks, Ritchie, etc., 
and which have secured to the whole system 
of telegraphy its present wonderful degree 
of scientific perfection, bringing to the 
discoverer fame and pecuniary fortune at 
home, and also the most splendid medals, 
decorations of honor, and " golden gifts," 
from nearly all the crowned heads of 
Europe. It is an interesting fact, that the 
first kingly acknowledgment received by 
Professor Morse, was the "Order of 
Glory " from the Sultan of Turkey. The 
rulers of Prussia, Wurtemberg, and Aus- 
tria, sent him superb gold medals ; the 
emperor of the French made him a Cheva- 
lier of the Legion of Honor, instituted by 
Napoleon the First ; while Denmark made 
him one of the knightly " Dannebrog," 
and Spain a Knight Commander of the 
Order of Isabella the Catholic. 



jjowerful an enemy Abd-el-Kader proved 
himself to the French, during the career 
of conquest undertaken by the latter in 
Algeria. On a certain occasion, during 
that terrific struggle, the French telegraph 
made the announcement : " Abd-el-Kader 

has been taken ;" a fog, however, 

enveloped the remainder of the sentence 
in obscurity. The excitement, neverthe- 
less, in the money market, was at fever 
height, at the supposed capture of that 
adroit enemj', and the funds rose tremen- 
douslj'. The following day, the sentence 
being completed, the intelligence ran thus : 
"Abd-el-Kader has been taken with a 
dreadful cold in his head." The funds 
fell, but the coitj) — which was worthy of a 
Rothschild's subtlety — had been suffi- 
ciently successful for those who managed 
to make the telegraph play into the hands 
of their financial agents. 

A case of a somewhat different character 
— one involving the "tender passion" — 
was the following. A daughter of one of 




4( '•^ 

ORDERS OF GLORY COXFERRED ON PROFESSOR MORSE. 



An example or two of the humorous 
side- of the telegraph may here be given, 
as a kind of side-relief to a subject 
liable to be regarded as somewhat exclu- 
sively involving abstract philosophical 
science and the technical minutiae of its 
application. 

Probably no one is ignorant of how 



the wealthiest merchants in Boston, Mass., 
had formed an attachment for a handsome 
young man, who was a clerk in her father's 
counting-house. The father having heard 
of the attachment, feigned ignorance of it, 
with a view of enabling him more success- 
fully to adopt measures that would break 
it off. For this purpose he directed the 



MORSE'S INVENTION OF THE TELEGRAPH. 



251 



young man to proceed to England, upon 
business ; and the lover accordingly ar- 
rived, on his route, in New York. In the 
meantime, the enamored young lady had 
got an inkling of her father's intentions, 
and wishing to frustrate them effectualbj, 
sent a message to that effect to her lover 
in New York, by the following expedient: 
She took her place in the telegraph office 
in Boston, and he did the same with a 
magistrate, in the New York office ; and 
now, the exchange of consent being duly 
given by the electric flash, they were viar- 
ried ly telegraph ! Shortly after, the 
lady's father insisted upon her marriage 
with the gentleman he had selected for 
her; and judge of his amazement when 
she told him that she was already married 
— the wife of Mr. B., then on his way to 
England ; adding an explanation of the 
novel way in which the ceremony was per- 
formed. And so the matter ended ; adding 
another to the triumphs of love and — 
electricity ! 

During the revolutionary excitement in 
Europe, in 1848, the astounding report 
flashed across Europe, that the king of 
Prussia had abdicated ! The statement 
originated with the electric telegraph, 
which sent the following dispatch: "The 
— King of — Prussia — has — gone to Pot — ." 
In another minute, the communication in 
this form was on its way to the news- 
paper bulletins, and was immediately tele- 
graphed thence in every direction. Not 
long after, however, the dial was again 
agitated, and then "s — dam" was added; 
making the very quiet piece of news. 



" The King of Prussia has gone to Pots- 
dam." 

In the early days of telegraphing, the 
competition for priority among the lead- 
ing journals was ver}' great, and feats were 
performed which, for that day of the art's 
infancy, were indeed marvelous. One 
instance will suffice : 

An iwjJoi't^iit speech liy Mr. Clay was 
much looked for. It was delivered in 
Lexington, Ky., on a Saturda}', and the 
proprietor of the New York Herald deter- 
mined on beating his contemporaries. 
Express riders were ready, and in less 
than five hours a full report of the speech 
was in Cincinnati. Notifications had been 
sent along the line of telegraph to " look 
out;" and at four o'clock on Sunday 
morning, the publisher of the Herald had 
the speech before him in New York — the 
distance being more than eleven hundred 
miles. This was done during a heavy rain, 
and while a thunder shower was passing 
over a portion of both the eastern and 
western lines. At Cincinnati, where it 
was to be copied in passing, the telegraph 
suddenly ceased working, to the dismay of 
the superintendent. Being short of proper 
hands, he mounted a horse, and followed 
the line, through the i^elting storm, until 
he found a break, caused by the falling of 
a tree, beyond Turtle Creek, a distance of 
twenty-one miles. He finished mending 
the break at dark, and then returned to 
the city, where, in the temporary absence 
of other competent operators, received the 
speech and sent it to New York, finishing 
it at four o'clock in the morning. 



XXXI. 

STRUGGLE FOR THE RIGHT OF PETITION IN CON- 
GRESS.— 1836. 



John Quincy Adams, the "Old Man Eloquent," Carries on a Contest of Eleven Days, Single-Handed, 
in its Defense, in the House of Representatives — Passage of tlie " Gag Rule." — Expulsion and Assae- 
eination Threatened. — His Unquailing Courage. — A Spectacle Unwitnessed Before in the Halls of 
Legislation — Triumph of His Master Mind — The Right and Petition a Constitutional One. — Indiscrim- 
inate and Unrestricted. — Anti-Slavery Petitions. — Mr. Adams Their Champion. — An Unpopular Posi- 
tion. — He Defies every Menace. — His Bold and Intrepid Conduct. — The North and South at Variance. 
Monster Petitions Pour In. — A Memorial from Slaves. — Wild Tumult in the House. — Cries of " Expel 
the Old Scoundrel!" — Proposal to Censure and Disgrace Him — Mr. Adams Unmoved Amidst the 
Tempest. — Eloquence and Indomitableness — A Petition to Dissolve the Union. — Increased Exasper- 
ation. — Violent and Denunciatory Debate. — Sublime Bearing of Mr. Adams. — Vindicated and Vic- 
torious at Last. — Wliat He Lived to See. — Honor from His Opponents. 




MONSTEK PETITION TO CONGRESS. 

evident to considerate men, of 



*' Thoueh aped, he wat bo iron of limb, 
Koneot llie youth could cope with hiint 
And til.- f'li B whom he ttinglv kei'I at bay, 
Outiiuuibercd his huire ol white and grt^." 



'lENEEABLE in years, and laden with political 
f honors — such as a king might be proud of, John 
Quinc3' Adams took his seat as a member of the 
house of representatives at Washington, in 1831. 
It was about this time, that the anti-slavery socie- 
ties of the North began to petition congress for the 
abolition of slavery in the District of Columbia, the 
inhibition of the inter-state slave-trade, and kin- 
dred measures. Though comparatively few at the 
outset, the petitioners for these objects increased 
greatly in numbers during the next four or five 
years, until they reached, in one congress, three- 
fourths of a million. But not all of these petition- 
ers were 'abolitionists,' in the then commonly 
accepted meaning of that term. In the defense of 
the untrammeled right of petition, as also that of 
the freedom of speech and of the press, it became 
parties, that not alone was the right to discuss and 



all 



petition in regard to slavery involved, but that vital constitutional principles were at 
stake, and that these must be defended, irrespective of the merits of the particular sub- 
ject over which the battle was waged. It was upon this broad ground that Mr. Adams, 



STRUGGLE FOE THE RIGHT OF PETITION. 



253 



'the old man eloquent,' as he was famil- 
iarly called, became at once the champion 
of freedom of debate and the right of peti- 
tion in the national legislature, making 
not America only, but the civilized world, 
resound with the clash of the conflict. Of 
tlie long and eventful life of this extraor- 
dinary man, the chapter covering the 
events here recorded may perhaps be 
regarded as the most striking and brilliant. 
The exalted positions he had held, almost 
from the very foundation of the govern- 
ment, his multifarious learning, his world- 
wide renown, lent luster to the cause ; 
while his exhaustless resources, his skill in 
debate, his dauntless courage and indomit- 
able will, were a tower of strength to its 
friends, and, as the sequel will show, a 
source of mortification and discomfit- 
ure to its foes. No threats and no tu- 
mults could for a moment cause him to 
quail or waver in his heroic determina- 
tion. 

On the twelfth of December, 1831, Mr. 
Adams, then at the very outset of his con- 
gressional career, presented fifteen peti- 
tions, all numerously signed, from inhabi- 
tants of Pennsylvania, praying for the 
abolition of slavery and the slave-trade in 
the District of Columbia. In presenting 
these petitions, Mr. Adams remarked, that 
although the petitioners were not his 
immediate constituents, he inferred, from a 
letter which accompanied the petitions, 
that they came from members of the Soci- 
ety of Friends, or Quakers, — a body of 
men, he declared, than whom there was no 
more respectable and worthy class of citi- 
zens in the whole country. At the same 
time, while he considered that the petitions 
for the abolition of the slave-trade in the 
District related to a proper subject for the 
legislation of Congress, he did not approve 
of those which prayed for the congressional 
abolition of slavery there. 

Similar petitions were constantly for- 
warded from different parts of the land, 
during successive terms of congress, for 
Mr. Adams to present, the parties well 
knowing that they could rely upon his 
scrupulous fidelity to them in the high 



places of power, and that, against all men- 
aces or blandishments, he would intrepidly 
advocate that most sacred privilege of free- 
men — the right of petition. 

Becoming alarmed at these demonstra- 
tions, the southern members of congress 
determined to arrest them, and, on the 
eighth of Februarj', 183G, a committee of 
the house was appointed to consider what 
disposition should be made of petitions and 
memorials of this nature. The report of 
this committee consisted, in substance, of 
three resolutions, as follows: First, that 
congress could not constitutionally inter- 
fere with slavery in any of the states ; 
second, that it ought not to interfere with 
slavery in the District of Columbia ; third, 
that all petitions, propositions, or papers of 
any kind, relating to the subject, should, 
if brought before congress, be laid upon 
the table, without liberty of debate, and 
receive no further action. This report 
ivas the casting of the die. Well was it 
called the "Gag Rule." 

When the first of these resolutions was 
taken up, Mr. Adams said, if the house 
would allow him five minutes' time, he 
would prove the resolution to be untrue. 
His request was denied. On the third 
declaration, Mr. Adams refused to vote, 
and sent to the speaker's chair the follow- 
ing protest, demanding that it should be 
placed on the journal of the house, there 
to stand to the latest posterity : 

"I hold the resolution to be a direct vio- 
lation of the constitution of the United 
States, of the rules of this house, and of 
the rights of my constituents." 

Notwithstanding the rule embodied in 
this resolution virtually trampled the right 
of petition into the dust, yet it was adopted 
by the house, by a large majority. But 
]Mr. Adams was not to be baffied by this 
arbitrary restriction. Petitions on the 
subject of slavery continued to be trans- 
mitted to him in increased numbers, some 
of them of monster size, bearing thousands 
of signatures. With unwavering firmness 
— against a bitter and unscrupulous oppo- 
sition, exasperated to the highest pitch by 
his unconquerable pertinacity — amidst a 



254 



STRUGGLE FOR THE RIGHT OF PETITION. 



perfect tempest of vituperation and abuse 
— he persevered, unvanquished, in present- 
ing these petitions, one by one, to the 
amount sometimes of two hundred in a 
day, and demanding the attention of the 
house on each ssparate petition. His 
position in these scenes, — advocating, 
amidst scorn and derision, and threats of 
expulsion and assassination, the inalienable 




right of petition for the poorest and hum- 
blest in the land, — was in the highest 
degree illustrious and sublime ; a spectacle 
unwitnessed before in the halls of legisla- 
tion. 

On the sixth of January, 1837, Mr. 
Adams presented the petition of one hun- 
dred and fifty women, whom he stated to 
be the wives and daughters of his immedi- 
ate constituents, praying for the abolition 
of slaver3' in the District of Columbia; 
and he moved that the petition be read. 
Objection was made, whereupon Mr. 
Adams remarked that, understanding that 
it was not the petition itself which was 
laid upon the table, but the motion to 
receive, he gave notice that he should call 
up that motion, for decision, every day, so 
long as freedom of speech was allowed to 
him as a member of the house. Being 
called to order at this stage of proceedings, 
Mr. Adams said he would then have the 
honor of presenting to the house the peti- 
tion of two hundred and twenty-eight 
women, the wives and daughters of his 



immediate constituents ; and, as a part of 
the speech which he intended to make, he 
would take the liberty of reading the peti- 
tion, which was not long, and would not 
consume much time. Objection being 
made to the reception of the petition, Mr. 
Adams at once proceeded to read, that the 
petitioners, inhabitants of South Wey- 
mouth, in the state of Massachusetts, 
" impressed with the sinfulness of slavery, 
and keenly aggrieved by its existence in 
a part of our country over which con- 
gress " 

Here Mr. Pinckney, of South. Carolina, 
rose to a question of order, and, after a 
brisk colloquy in the house, the speaker 
ruled that Mr. Adams must confine hini- 
self to stating the contents of the petition. 
Mr. Adams. — I am doing so, sir. 
The Speaker. — Not in the opinion of 
the chair. 

3Ir. Adams. — I was at this point of the 
petition: "Keenly aggrieved by its exist- 
ence in a part of our country over which 
congress possesses exclusive jurisdiction 

in all cases whatsoever " 

Loud cries of " Order," "Order ! " 
Mr. Adams. — "Do most earnestly peti- 
tion your honorable body " 

Mr. Chambers, of Kentucky, rose to a 
point of order. 

Mr. Adams. — "Immediately to abolish 

slavery in the District of Columbia " 

Mr. Chambers reiterated his call to 
order, and the Speaker directed Mr. 
Adams to take his seat. 

Mr. Adams proceeded, however, with 
great rapidity of enunciation, and in a 
very loud tone of voice — "And to declare 
every human being free who sets foot vjion 
its soil ! " 

The confusion in the hall at this time 
was very great. The speaker decided that 
it was not in order for a member to read a 
petition, whether it was long or short. 

Mr. Adams appealed from any decision 
which went to establish the principle that 
a member of the United States house of 
representatives should not have the power 
to read what he chose. He had never 
before heard of such a thing. If the hith- 



STRUGGLE FOR THE RIGHT OF PETITION. 



255 



erto invariable practice was to be reversed, 
let the decision stand upon record, and let 
it appear how entirely the freedom of 
speech was suppressed in this house. If 
the reading of a paper was to be suppressed 
in his person, so help him God, he would 
only consent to it as a matter of record. 
Saying this, he instantly resumed and 
finished the reading of the petition, that 
the petitioners 

" respectfully announce their inten- 
tion to present the same petition yearly 
before this Iionorable body, that it might 
at least be a memorial in the holy cause of 
human freedom, that they had done what 
they could." 

These words were read by Mr. Adams, 
at the top of his voice, amidst tumultuous 
cries of "order" from every part of the 
house. The petition was finally received, 
and laid upon the table. 

One month after this, namely, on the 
seventh of February, after Mr. Adams had 
offered some two hundred or more aboli- 
tion petitions, he came to a halt, and, with- 
out yielding the floor, employed himself in 
packing up or arranging his budget of 
documents. He was about resuming his 
seat, when, suddenly glancing at a paper 
on his desk, he took it up, and exclaimed, 
in a shrill tone — 

" Mr. Speaker, I have in my possession, 
a petition of a somewhat extraordinary 
character; and I wish to inquire of the 
chair if it be in order to present it." 

The Speaker replied, that if the gentle- 
man from Massachusetts would state the 
character of the petition, the chair would 
probably be able to decide on the subject. 

"Sir," ejaculated Mr. Adams, "the 
petition is signed by eleven slaves of the 
town of Fredericksburg, in the county of 
Culpepper, in the state of Virginia. It is 
one of those petitions which, it has oc- 
curred to my mind, are not what they 
purport to be. It is signed partly by per- 
sons who cannot write, by making their 
marks, and partly by persons whose hand- 
writing would manifest that they have 
received the education of slaves. The 
petition declares itself to be from slaves. 



and I am requested to present it. I will 
send it to the chair." 

The speaker, Mr. Polk, who habitually 
extended to Mr. Adams every courtesy 
and kindness imaginable, was taken by 
surprise, and found himself involved in a 
dilemma. Giving his chair one of those 
hitches which ever denoted his excitement, 
he said that a petition from slaves was a 
novelty, and involved a question that he 
did not feel called on to decide. He 
would like to take time to consider it ; and, 
in the meantime, would refer it to the 
house. The house was very thin at the 
time, and but little attention was paid to 
what was going on, till the excitement of 
the speaker attracted the attention of Mr. 
Dixon H. Lewis, of Alabama, who impa^ 
tientlv, and under great excitement, rose 
and inquired what the petition W'as. The 
speaker furnished the required informa- 
tion ; whereupon Mr. Lewis, forgetting all 
discretion, whilst he frothed at the mouth, 
turned towards Mr. Adams, and exclaimed, 
'in thunder-tones — 

" Bij , sir, this is not to he endured 

any longer !" 

" Treason ! treason ! Expel the old scoun- 
drel ; put him out; do not let him disgrace 
the house any longer," screamed a half 
dozen other members. 

" Get up a resolution to meet the case," 
exclaimed a member from North Carolina. 
Mr. George C. Dromgoole, who had ac- 
quired quite a reputation as a parliamen- 
tarian, was selected as the very man who, 
of all others, was most capable of drawing 
up a resolution that would meet and cover 
the emergency. He produced a resolution 
and preamble, in which it was stated, sub- 
stantially, that, whereas the Hon. John 
Quincy Adams, a representative from Mas- 
sachusetts, had presented to the house a 
petition signed by negro slaves, thus 
" giving co!or to an idea " that bondmen 
were capable of exercising the right of 
petition, it was " Resolved, That he be 
taken to the bar of the house, and be cen- 
sured by the speaker thereof." 

A still more stringent resolution was 
introduced by Hon. Waddy Thompson, 



256 



STRUGGLE FOE THE EIGHT OF PETITION. 



namely, that Mr. Adams, " having been 
guilty of gross disrespect to the house, be 
instantly brought to the bar, to receive 
the severe censure of the speaker." Sev- 
eral other resolutions and propositions, 
from members of slave-holding states, were 
submitted, but none proved satisfactory 
even to themselves. The idea of bringing 
the venerable ex-president to the bar, like 
a culprit, to receive a reprimand from a 
comparatively youthful speaker, was equal- 
ly disgraceful and absurd. Mr. Adams, 
however, entirely unmoved by the tempest 
which raged around him, defended him- 
self, and the integrity of bis purpose, with 
his accustomed ability and eloquence. 

"In regard to the resolutions now 
before the house," said he, "as they all 
concur in naming me, and in charging me 
with high crimes and misdemeanors, and 
in calling me to the bar of the house to 
answer for my crimes, I have thought it 
was my duty to remain silent, until it 
should be the pleasure of the house to act, 
either on one or the other of these resolu- 
tions. I suppose that if I shall be brought 
to the bar of the house, I shall not be 
struck mute by the previous question, 
before I have an ojiportunity to say a word 
or two in my own defense." 

"Now, as to the fact what the petition 
was for," said Mr. Adams, in another por- 
tion of his speech, "I simply state to the 
gentleman from Alabama, who has sent to 
the table a resolution assuming that this 
petition was for the abolition of slavery — 
I state to him that he is mistaken. He 
must amend his resolution ; for if the 
house should choose to read this petition, 
I can state to them they would find it 
something very much the reverse of that 
which the resolution states it to be. And 
if the gentleman from Alabama still 
chooses to bring me to the bar of the 
house, he must amend his resolution in a 
very important particular; for he may 
probably have to put into it, that my crime 
has been for attempting to introduce the 
petition of slaves that slavery should not 
be abolished." 

Eeiterating the principle, that the right 



of petition belongs to all, Mr. Adams said 
that he felt it a sacred duty to present any 
petition, couched in respectful language, 
from any citizen of the United States, be 
its object what it might, — be the prayer of 
it that in which he could concur, or that to 
which he was utterly opposed ; no law 
could be found, even in the most abject 
despotism, which deprives even the mean- 
est or most degraded, of the right to sup- 
plicate for a boon, or to pray for mercy; 
there is no absolute monarch on earth, who 
is not compelled to receive the petitions of 
his people, whosoever they may be, — not 
even the sultan of Turkey can walk the 
streets and refuse to receive petitions from 
the lowest and vilest of the land. 

Whsn southern members saw that, in 
their haste, they had not tarried to ascer- 
tain the nature of the petition, and that it 
prayed for the perpetuation, instead of the 
abolition of slavery', their position became 
so ludicrous, that their exasperation was 
greatly increased. At the time the 
petition was announced by Mr. Adams, 
the house was very thin ; but the excite- 
ment that was produced soon filled it; 
and, besides, the sergeant-at-arms had been 
instructed to arrest and bring in all absen- 
tees. The excitement commenced at about 
one o'clock, and continued until seven 
o'clock in the evening, when the house 
adjourned. Mr. Adams stood at his desk, 
resolutely refusing to be seated till the 
matter was disposed of, alleging that if 
he were guilty, he was not entitled to a 
seat among high and honorable men. 
When Mr. Dromgoole's resolution was 
read to the house, for its consideration, 
Mr. Adams yielded to it one of those sar- 
castic sneers which he was in the habit of 
giving, when provoked to satire; and said 
— "Mr. Speaker, if I understand the reso- 
lution of the honorable gentleman from 
Virginia, it charges me with being guilty 
of ' giving color to an idea ! ' " The whole 
house broke forth in one common, irrepres- 
sible peal of laughter, at this capital double 
entendre; and the Dromgoole resolution 
was actually laughed out of existence. 
The house now found that it had got itself 



STRUGGLE FOR THE RIGHT OF PETITION. 



257 



in a dilemma — that Mr. Adams was too 
much for it; and, at last, adjourned, leav- 
ing the affair in the position in which 
they found it. 

For several days this subject continued 
to agitate the house — and the nation. Mr. 
Adams not only warded off the virulent 
attacks made upon him, but carried the 
war so effectually into the camp of his ene- 
mies, that, becoming heartily tired of the 
contest, they repeatedly endeavored to get 
rid of the whole subject by laying it on 
the table. To this Mr. Adams oljjected. 
He insisted that it should be thoroughly 
canvassed. Immense excitement contin- 
ued, and call after call of the house was 
made. At length, the subject was brought 
to a termination by the passage of a pre- 
amble and resolution — much softened 
down, in comparison with what was at first 
proposed — declaring that the paper cannot 
be received, and that slaves have no right 
to petition. 

The slave petition in question is believed 
to have been a counterfeit, manufactured 
by certain members of congress from 
slave-holding states, and was sent to Mr. 
Adams by way of experiment — with the 
double design of ascertaining if he could 
be imposed upon ; and, if the deception 
succeeded, those who got it up were curi- 
ous to know if the venerable statesman 
would redeem his pledge, and present a 
petition, no matter who it came from. He 
was too wily not to detect the plot at the 
outset ; he knew that all was a hoax ; but 
he resolved to present the paper, and then 
turn the tables upon its authors. 

His success in thus defeating his oppo- 
nents on their mad intention of censure, 
was one of the most signal instances of 
personal and parliamentary triumph. In 
vain did they threaten assassination, 
indictment before the grand jury, and 
other proceedings, to seal his lips in 
silence. In vain, too, did they declare 
that he should "be made amenable to 
another tribunal (mob law), and, as an 
incendiary, be brought to condign puni.°.h- 
ment." "My life on it," said a southern 
member, "if he presents that petition from 
17 



slaves, we shall yet see him within the 
walls of the penitentiarj'." Firm stood 
the white-haired sage of more than seventy 
winters, and with withering rebukes 
repelled his hot-blooded assailants. His 
clarion voice rang defiantly through the 
hall, as he said — 

" Do the gentlemen from the south 
think they can frighten me by their 
threats ? If that be their object, let me 
tell them, sir, they have preciselij mistake?i 
their man. I am not to be frightened 
from the discharge of a sacred duty, by 
their indignation, by their violence, nor, 
sir, by all the grand juries in the universe. 
I hav3 doi:e only mj' dutj- ; and I shall do 
it again, under the same circumstances, 
even though they recur to-morrow." 

On the twenty-fourth of January, 1842, 
Mr. Adams presented the petition of forty- 
five citizens of Haverhill, Massachusetts, 
praj'ing that congress would immediately 
take measures peaceably to dissolve the 
Union of the States : First, because no 
union can be agreeable which does not 
present prospects of reciprocal benefits ; 
second, because a vast proportion of the 
resources of one section of the Union is 
annually drained to sustain the views and 
course of another section, without any 
adequate return ; third, because, judging 
from the history of past nations, such a 
union, if persisted in, in the present course 
of things, would certainly overwhelm the 
whole nation in utter destruction. 

Mr. Adams moved that the petition be 
referred to a select committee, with in- 
structions to report an answer showing the 
reasons why the prayer of it ought not to 
be granted. 

Immediate and wild excitement fol- 
lowed the presentation of this petition. 
Mr. Hopkins, of Virginia, moved to burn 
it in presence of the house. Mr. Wise, of 
the same state, asked the speaker if it was 
in order to move to censure anj' member 
for presenting such a petition. Mr. 
Gilmer, also of Virginia, moved a resolu- 
tion, that Mr. Adams, for presenting such 
a petition, had justly incurred the censure 
of the house. Mr. Adams said he hoped 



258 



STRUGGLE FOR THE RIGHT OF PETITION. 




JOHN QUIXCV ADAMS DEFENDING THE BIOHT OF PBTITION IX CONGRESS. 



that the resolution would be received and 
discussed. Angrj' debate continued, until 
the house adjourned. 

The next day, the whole body of south- 
ern members came into the house, appar- 
ently resolved to crush Mr. Adams and his 
cause — the right of petition — forever. 
They gathered in groups, conversed in 
whispers, and the whole aspect of their 
conduct at twelve o'clock indicated the 
approach of some high-handed proceeding. 
Thomas F. Marshall, of Kentucky, who 
had been selected as spokesman for the 
occasion, rose, and, having asked and 
received of Mr. Gilmer leave to offer a 
substitute for his resolution of censure 
which was pending at the adjournment, 
presented three resolutions, which had 
been prepared at a caucus, the night 
before, and which declared that the peti- 
tion in question involved a proposition to 
the house to commit perjury and high 
treason, and that Mr. Adams, for offering 
it, receive the severest censure of that 
body. 

Assuming a manner and tone as if he 



felt the historical importance of his posi- 
tion, he spoke with great coolness and 
solemnity, — a style wholly unusual with 
him; exhibited, too, a magisterial air, and 
judicial consequence, as if he thought that 
he was about to pour down the thunder of 
condemnation on the venerable object of 
his attack, as a judge pronouncing sentence 
on a convicted culprit, in the sight of 
approving men and angels. The vast 
audience before whom he spoke were not 
to be left in any doubt of his eminent 
capacity to act the part he had assumed, 
of prosecutor, judge, and executioner. 

"\^nien ]Mr. Marshall concluded, the 
chair announced to Mr. Adams that his 
position entitled him to the floor ; bringing 
up to the imagination a parallel scene — 
•'Then Agrippa said unto Paul, Thou art 
permitted to speak for thyself.' 

Up rose, then, that bald, gray old man, 
his hands trembling with constitutional 
infirmity and age, upon whose consecrated 
head the vials of partisan wrath had been 
outpoured. Among the crowd of slave- 
liolders who filled the galleries he could 



STRUGGLE FOR THE RIGHT OF PETITION. 



269 



seek no friends, and but a few among those 
immediately around him. Unexcited, he 
raised his voice, high-keyed, as was usual 
with him, but clear, untremulous, and 
firm. In a moment his infirmities disap- 
peared, although his shaking hand could 
not but be noticed ; trembling not with 
fear, but with age. At first there was 
nothing of indignation in his tone, manner, 
or words. Surprise and cold contempt 
were all. The thread of his great discourse 
was mainly his present and past relations 
to Virginia and Virginians. After grate- 
fully acknowledging his infinite obligations 
to the great Virginians of the first age of 
the federal republic, he modestly and 
unpretendingly recounted the unsought, 
exalted honors, heaped upon him by Wash- 
ington, Madison, and Monroe, and detailed 
with touching simplicity and force some of 
his leading actions in the discharge of 
these weighty trusts. In pursuing his 
remarks, he chanced to fix his eye upon 
Marshall, who was moving down one of 
the side-aisles. Instantly, at the sugges- 
tion of the moment, he burst forth in a 
touching appeal to the hallowed memory 
of Marshall, the venerated and immaculate 
Virginian, through a long career of judi- 
cial honor and usefulness. With a flash 
of withering scorn, Mr. Adams struck at 
the unhappy Marshall of another day. A 
single breath blew all his mock-judicial 
array into air and smoke. In a tone of 
insulted majesty and reinvigorated spirit, 
Mr. Adams then said, in reply to the auda- 
cious charge of high treason, 

" I call for the reading of the first para- 
graph of the Declaration of Independence. 
Read it ! read it ! and see what that says 
of the right of a people to reform, to 
change, to dissolve their government." 

The look, the tone, the gesture, of the 
insulted patriot, at that instant, were most 
imposing. He seemed to have renewed his 
youth like the eagles, and his voice was 
that of sovereign command. The burthen 
of seventy-five winters rolled off, and he 
rose above the puny things around him. 
When the passage of the Declaration was 
read which solemnly proclaims the right 



of reform, revolution, and resistance to 
oppression, the grand old man thundered 
out — 

" Read that again !" 

Looking proudly around on the listen- 
ing audience, he heard his triumphant 
vindication sounded forth in the glorious 
sentences of the nation's Magna Charta, 
written by Mr. Jefferson, a Virginian. 
The sympathetic revulsion of feeling was 
intense, though voiceless ; every drop of 
free, honest blood in that vast assemblage 
bounded with high impulse, every fiber 
thrilled with excitement. The members 
of the house were all gathered around him, 
even his persecutors paying involuntary 
tribute to the 'old man eloquent.' Lord 
Morpeth was an attentive spectator and 
auditor ; and so were governors, senators, 
judg'^s, and other high officials, innumera^ 
ble. A strong exhibition of the facts in 
the case, mostly in cold, calm, logical, 
measured sentences, concluded Mr. Adams's 
effort, and he sat down, vindicated, victo- 
rious. 

Intemperate debates, with violence undi- 
minished, succeeded, in which all the 
topics of party censure, from the adoption 
of the constitution, were collected and 
heaped upon Mr. Adams, by Marshall, 
Wise, Gilmer, and others. No description 
can do justice to the effective eloquence of 
Mr. Adams in reply, — including amusing 
particulars of missives he had received 
from the south threatening him with 
assassination ; among other kindly hints, 
of this sort, sent through the post-office, 
being a colored lithograph portrait of him- 
self, with the picturesque annotation of a 
rifle-ball on the forehead, and a promise 
that such a remedy would "stop his 
music." 

On the eleventh day of this debate, Mr. 
Adams, in opening his defense, stated it 
as his intention to go over the whole affair, 
and that he should require a great deal 
more time, in addition to what had already 
been consumed ; but he was willing to 
forego it all, provided it could be don? 
without sacrificing his rights, the rights 
of his constituents, and those of the peti- 



260 



STEUGGLE FOR THE RIGHT OF PETITION. 



tioners. He then stated, that if any 
gentleman would make a motion to lay the 
whole subject — that of which Marshall 
had been made the champion — on the 
table, he would forbear to proceed with 
his defense. This motion was at once 
made by Mr. Botts, of Virginia, and car- 
ried by a vote of one hundred and six to 
ninety-three. The petition from Haverhill 
was then refused to be received, three- 
fourths of the house voting against it. 

It would appear well-nigh incredible, 
that a venerable man like Mr. Adams 
should be able to carry on, for eleven 
days, almost single-handed, so great a con- 
test. That this was due, in no small 
degree, to liis consummate skill as a par- 
liamentarian, cannot be questioned. The 
following memorable instance of his power 
in this respect, will form a fitting close to 
this chapter. 

At the opening of the twenty-sixth con- 
gress, the clerk began to ci»il the roll of 
the members, according to custom. When 
he came to New Jersej', he stated that 
five seats of the members from that state 
were contested, and that, not feeling him- 
self authorized to decide the question, he 
should pass over those names, and proceed 
with the call. This gave rise to a general 
and violent debate on th« steps to be pur- 
sued under such circumstances. Innumer- 
able questions were raised, and proposi- 
tions made, but the house could not agree 
upon the mode of proceeding, and, from 
the second to the fifth day, the house 
remained in a perfectly' disorganized state, 
and in inextricable confusion, the clerk 
acting as the tool of his party. But the 
hour of disenthrallment was at hand ; a 
scene was to be presented which would 
send the mind back to those daj's when 
Cromwell exclaimed, " Sir Harry Vane ! 
wo unto you, Sir Harry Vane ! " — and in 
an instant dispersed the famous rump par- 
liament. 

Mr. Adams, from the opening of this 
scene of confusion and anarchy, had main- 
tained a profound silence. He appeared 
tc be engaged most of the time in writing. 
To a common observer he seemed to be 



reckless of everything around him. But 
nothing, not the slightest incident, escaped 
him. 

The fourth day of the struggle had 
now commenced. Mr. Hugh A. Garlandj 
the clerk, was directed to call the roll 
again. He commenced with Maine, as 
usual in those days, and was proceeding 
towards Massachusetts. Mr. Adams was 
now observed to be holding himself in 
readiness to get the floor at the earliest 
moment possible. His eye was riveted 
on the clerk, his hands clasped the front 
edge of his desk, where he alwaj-s placed 
them to assist him in rising. He looked, 
in the language of Otway, like a ' fowler 
eager for his prey.' 

" New Jersey ! " ejaculated Mr. Hugh 
Garland, "and the clerk has to repeat 

that " 

Mr. Adams sprang to the floor ! 
" I rise to interrupt the clerk," was hi.-t 
first ejaculation. 

" Silence, silence ! " resounded through 
the hall. " Hear him, hear him ! Hear 
what he has to say ! Hear John Quincy 
Adams !" was vociferated on all sides. 

In an instant, such profound silence 
reigned throughout the vast chamber, that 
the fall of a leaf of paper might have been 
heard in any part of it; and every eye was 
riveted on the venerable Nestor of Massa- 
chusetts, — one of the purest of statesmen 
and noblest of men ! He paused for a 
moment, and, having given Mr. Garland 
a withering look, he proceeded to address 
the dense throng. 

"It was not my intention," said he, "to 
take any part in these extraordinary pro- 
ceedings. I had hoped that this house 
would succeed in organizing itself; that a 
speaker and clerk would be elected, and 
that the ordinary business of legislation 
would have been progressed in. This is 
not the time, or place, to discuss the 
merits of the conflicting claimants for 
seats from New Jersey ; that subject 
belongs to the house of representatives, 
which, by the constitution, is made the 
ultimate arbiter of the qualifications of its 
members. But what a spectacle we here 



STRUGGLE FOR THE RIGHT OF PETITION. 



261 



present ! We degrade and disgrace our- 
selves ; we degrade and disgrace our con- 
stituents and our country. We do nut, 
and cannot organize ; and why ? Because 
the clerk of this house, the mere clerk, 
whom we create, whom we employ, and 
whose existence depends upon our will, 
usurps the throne, and sets us, the repre- 
sentatives, the vicegerents of the whole 
American people, at defiance, and holds us 
in contempt ! And what is this clerk of 
yours ? Is he to control the destinies of 
sixteen millions of freemen ? Is he to 
suspend, by his mere negative, the func- 
tions of government, and put an end to 
this congress ? He refuses to call the 
roll ! It is in j-our power to compel him 
to call it, if he will not do it voluntarily." 

Here he was interrupted hy a member, 
who said that he was authorized to say 
that compulsion could not reach the clerk, 
who had avowed that he would resign, 
rather than call the state of Now Jersey. 

"Well, sir," continued Mr. Adams, 
"then let him resign, and we maj' possibly 
discover some way by which we can get 
along, without the. aid of his all-powerful 
talent, learning, and genius. If we cannot 
organize in any other waj' — if this clerk 
of yours will not consent to our discharg- 
ing the trusts confided to us by our con- 
stituents, then let us imitate the example 
of the Virginia House of Burgesses, which, 
when the colonial governor, Dinwiddle, 
ordered it to disperse, refused to obey the 
imperious and insulting mandate, and, like 
men " 

The multitude could not contain or 
repress their enthusiasm any longer, but 
saluted the eloquent and indignant speaker, 
and intercepted him with loud and deaf- 
ening cheers, which seemed to shake the 
capitol to its center. The very Genii of 
applause and enthusiasm seemed to float 
in the atmosphere of the hall, and every 
heart expanded with indescribable pride 
and exultation. The turmoil, the dark- 
ness, the very chaos of anarchy, which had 
for successive days, pervaded the American 
congress, was dispelled by the magic, the 
talismanic eloquence of a single man 5 and. 



once more, the wheels of government and 
of legislation were put in motion. 

Having, by this powerful appeal, brought 
the yet unorganized assembly to a percep- 
tion of its real position, he submitted a 
motion requiring the acting clerk to pro- 
ceed in calling the roll. This and similar 
motions had already been made bj- other 
members. The difiiculty, indeed, was just 
this, that the clerk declined to entertain 
them. Accordingly, Mr. Adams was 
immediately' interrupted by a burst of 
voices demanding, " How shall the ques- 
tion be put ? " " Who will put the ques- 
tion ? " The voice of Mr. Adams was 
heard above all the tumult, " / intend to 
put the question myself!" That word 
brought order out of chaos. There was 
the master mind. 

As soon as the multitude had recovered 
itself, and the excitement of long and loud 
resounding plaudits had abated, Mr. 
Richard Barnwell Rhett, of South Caro- 
lina, leaped upon one of the desks, waved 
his hand, and exclaimed: 

" I move that the Honorable John 
Quincy Adams take the chair of the 
speaker of this house, and officiate as pre- 
siding officer, till the house be organized 
by the election of its constitutional officers ! 
As many as are agreed to this will say ay ; 
those " 

He had not an opportunity to complete 
the sentence, " those who are not agreed 
will say no," — for one universal, deafen- 
ing, tremendous ay, responded to the 
nomination. 

Hereupon, it was moved and ordered 
that Hons. Lewis Williams, of North 
Carolina, and Richard Barnwell Rhett, 
conduct John Quincy Adams to the chair. 
And well did Mr. Wise, of Virginia, say 
to him : 

" Sir, I regard it as the proudest hour 
of your life ; and if, when you shall be 
gathered to your fathers, I were asked to 
select the words which, in my judgment, 
are best calculated to give at once the 
character of the man, I would inscribe 
upon your tomb this sentence : / intend 
to put the question myself.'' 



262 



STRUGGLE FOS THE SIGHT OF PETITION. 



The crave old man lived not only to 
860 the odious "gag rule" rescinded, but to 
listen to that magnificent speech from one 
of his colleagues, Dr. Palfrey, on the 
" inalienable rights of man," at the con- 
clusion of which, Mr. Adams characteris- 
tically exclaimed, "God be praised; the 
seals are broken ; the door is open ! " 

Dying in his country's capitol, in the 
)nidst of his public duties, in February, 
1848, his illustrious career shone brightly 
to the end. As secretary of state under 
Mr, Monroe, and subsequently as presi- 



dent, his cabinet and other political asso- 
ciates consisted of such eminent statesmen 
as Crawford, Shelby, Crowninshield, 
Thompson, Southard, Meigs, McLean, 
Rush, Wirt, Barbour, Porter, Van Renssel- 
aer ; nor was his political ability hardly less 
appreciated by those master leaders in the 
ranks of his opponents. A whole nation 
deplored the loss and united in rendering 
homage to the memory of the fearless 
"champion of the right of petition." His 
successor in congress was Hon. Horace 
Mann, a kindred spirit. 



XXXII. 

PASSAGE OF BENTON'S FAMOUS "EXPUNGING RESO- 
LUTION," IN THE U. S. SENATE, AFTER A THREE 
YEARS PARLIAMENTARY STRUGGLE.— 1837. 



Vinflication of President Jackson Against the Condemnatory Sentence Passed by that Body in 1834, 
for his Kemoval of the Government Deposites. — Strong Black Lines are Drawn Around Said Sen- 
tence, by the Secretary, in tlie Presence of the Senate and of a Vast and Tumultuous Crowd, at Mid- 
night. — Opposition to the United States Bank. — Jackson's Message Against It. — Public Ojiinion 
Divided — Congress Grants a Charter. — Presidential Veto of this Bill. — Jackson Denounces tlie 
Bank. — Declares it to be Corrupt. — Orders the United States Funds lienioved. — Secretary Duane 
Declines to Act. — Taney Succeeds Him and Obeys. — Fierce Conflict in Congress. — Weeks of Stormy 
Debate. — Proposed Censure of Jackson. — Resolution to this Effect Passed. — Benton's Motion to 
Expunge. — He Follows it up Unceasingly. — His Consummate Tact. — Approach of the Deci^ive 
Hour. — Excited Crowds Pour In. — Triumph of the Master Spirit. — Execution of the Resolw. — 
Strange and Impressive Scene. 



■• Vo nowpr on earth— BO help me God !— shall control the key to the Nation's funds, but the United Statee GoTernmeDt itselL"— ^.^E3l- 
DENT Jackso.v. 




remark concerning the celebrated parlia- 
mentary feat accomplished in tlie passage 
of the "Expunging Resolution," by the 
United States Senate, could more appro- 
priately describe the chief actor in that 
proceeding, than the pregnant sentence 
written by Senator Benton's biographer, 
namel}', that as an exhibition of many 
especial traits of that senator's character — 
persistency, keen and sagacious insight, 
stubborn devotion to the fame of his party 
chief, unquailing courage, and confidence of 
success against any and all odds, — no act of his life was more striking. As is very 
well known, the mover in this exciting measure. Senator Benton, natural]}' made him- 
self peculiarly obnoxious to his political opponents, but he finally achieved success, 
and gained a great personal triumph. The motion was, to strike from the journals of 
the senate a resolution of censure passed upon General Jackson, March twenty-eighth, 
1834, during the second term of his presidency, and the passion of partisans clothed 
the contest with a violence which shook the whole country. 

The history of this remarkable and deeplj' interesting affair runs as follows : In his 
message to congress, President Jackson expressed an opinion against renewing the 



SAFK PLACE FOR THE KEY TO TITE PUBLIC FUNDS. 



2G4 PASSAGE OF THE FAMOUS EXPUNGINa RESOLUTION". 



charter of the United States bank, which 
would expire in 1836. The banli had not 
yet formally applied for such renewal, but, 
being thus pressed upon the attention of 
congress, it was referred to the committee 
on finance in both houses for examina- 
tion ; and on the thirtieth of April, 1830, 
Mr. McDuffie, of the house, made a report 
on the subject, taking ground directly at 
variance with the views of the president, 
arguing that Washington sanctioned and 
signed its original charter, that it had 
fulfilled the ends for which it was estab- 
lished, and that expediencj' and a regard 
for the public interest would dictate its 
continuance. The report in the senate 
concurred with these sentiments. Such 
was the effect produced by these reports, 
that the shares of the bank, which, under 
the effect of the message, had greatly 
fallen in value, soon reached the very 
highest figure. 

As early as 1832, a memorial was pre- 
sented to congress by the president and 
directors of the bank for a renewal of its 
charter. Soon after, a committee was ap- 
pointed to investigate the proceedings of 
the bank. A majority of this committee 
reported against the bank, principally 
on the ground of a violation of its char- 
ter bj' illegal transactions ; a minority 
report, however, declared that the affairs 
of the bank had been administered by Mr. 
Biddle and the directors, with very great 
abilitj', and with perfect fidelity to every 
obligation ; and that, being an institution 
indispensable to the preservation of a 
sound currenc}', and to the financial opera- 
tions of the government, its downfall 
would be a great national calamity. 

On the tenth of June, the senate passed 
a bill, by eight majoritj', favoring the 
bank, and, shortly after, the house con- 
curred by a majority of twenty-two. This 
bill was vetoed by the president, who de- 
clared it unauthorized by the constitution, 
subversive of the rights of the states, and 
dangerous to the liberties of the people. 
This veto, though not unexpected to the 
country, was bitterly denounced from one 
end of the Union to the other, as an act 



pregnant with fearful and appalling woes. 
Such, too, was the political complexion of 
congress, at this period, that it was impos- 
sible to obtain anything like the two-thirds 
vote requisite to pass a bill over the presi- 
dential veto. 

The conflict of opinion in regard to the 
bank, — an institution whose existence and 
operations naturally affected, for good or 
ill, every branch of industry, commerce, 
agriculture, and manufactures, throughout 
the country, — continued, and with in- 
creased intensity. All kinds of business 
had, by means of the vast loans so freely 
obtained from the bank, in larger or 
smaller sums, by speculators, become 
greatly inflated, and especially was this 
the case with stocks. Jackson, viewing 
the bank as, in this respect, an unhealthy 
corporation, and capable, in its dispensa- 
tion of favors, of being a dangerous polit- 
ical engine, determined to cripple and 
crush it, and, as an effectual measure to 
this end, he planned the withdrawal from 
the bank, of those funds belonging to the 
government, of which the bank, according 
to its charter, was the legal depository. 
During the recess of congress, namely, on 
the eighteenth of September, 1833, the 
president read to the cabinet a document 
advocating and advising a speedy removal 
of the public treasure deposited with the 
United States bank, — this treasure consti- 
tuting, as was well understood, the basis 
of the bank's credit and operations. 

In the document read by the president, 
on this occasion, he begged the cabinet 
to consider the measure as his own, and 
in support of which ho should require no 
one of them to make a sacrifice of opinion 
or principle. Its responsibility, he assured 
them, had been assumed by him, after the 
most mature deliberation and reflection, as 
necessary to preserve the morals of the 
people, the freedom of the press, and the 
purity of the elective franchise. Mr. 
Duane, at this time secretary of the 
treasury, disapproved of the proposed re- 
moval of the deposites, whereupon he was 
dismissed from that jiosition, and his place 
su^jplied by iioger B. Taney, who at once 



PASSAGE OF THE FAMOUS EXPUNGING RESOLUTION. 



265 



executed the presidential order. The 
president emphatically declared: "No 
power on earth — so Itelp irie God! — shall 
control the key to the nation's funds, 
but the United States government itself ! " 

Mr. Clay's indignant, burning eloquence, 
denunciatory of the acts of the executive, 
knew no bounds, and he concluded by 
offering resolutions of censure against the 
president, whieh, after a most stormy de- 
bate, passed the senate, in a sUghtbj altered 
form, on the twenty-eighth of Mareh, 1834, 
namelj^: "That the president, in the late 
executive proceedings in relation to the 
revenue, has assumed upon himself au- 
thority and power not conferred by the 
constitution and laws, but in derogation of 
both." Against this resolution. President 
Jackson sent in a long and severe protest. 
To this the senate responded, by resolu- 
tions declaring that the protest was a 
breach of the privileges of the senate, and 
that it should not be entered upon the 
journal. The house of representatives, 
however, sustained the president, in his 
opposition to the bank, and the removal 
of the deposites. Memorials and peti- 
tions, for or against the measures of the 
president, flowed in from all quarters. It 
was considered as momentous an issue as 
had ever agitated the land. 

The president's wrath was unmeasured, 
that the resolutions of censure, in sub- 
stance declaring him guilty of an impeach- 
able offense, should thus be spread upon 
the legislative journal. Mr. Benton, the 
most powerful friend of the president, 
lost no time in giving notice of his inten- 
tion to move a strong measure in behalf 
of the president, namely, an Expunging 
Resolution against the sentence of cen- 
sure passed and recorded b}' the senate, 
committing himself irrevocably to the 
prosecution of the resolution, until he 
should succeed in the effort, or terminate 
his political life. 

In support of the president's course, and 
of Mr. Benton's proposed method of vin- 
dication, various public proceedings were 
had in different sections of the country, 
and some of the state legislatures not 



only voted in favor of the removal of the 
record of censure, but instructed their con- 
gressional delegations to use their influence 
and votes in a similar direction. 

Mr. Benton's resolutions rehearsed the 
principal points involved in the past his- 
tory and present aspects of the contro- 
versy, quite at length, the closing resolu- 
tion being as follows : " That the said 
resolve be expunged from the journal ; 
and, for that purpose, that the secretary 
of the senate, at such time as the senate 
may appoint, shall bring the manuscript 
journal of the session 1833-34 into the 
senate, and, in the presence of the senate, 
draw black lines round the said resolve, 
and write across the face thereof, in strong 
letters, the following words : ' Expunged 




day of 



by order of the senate, this ■ 

, in the year of our Lord .'" 

For three years, successively, did Mr. 
Benton bring forward, on different oc- 
casions, his celebrated motion, and again 
and again he suffered defeat, after the 
most violent and scathing debates that 
ever took place in any parliamentary body, 
the senate at this time containing an 
unusual amount of oratorical talent and 
forensic power. 

But the last scene — and with it victory 
to the great Missourian and his presiden- 
tial master, — was now near at hand ; and 



266 PASSAGE OF THE FAMOUS EXPUNGING EESOLUTION. 



this scene, as described, mainlj-, by Mr. 
Bonton himself, was as follows : Saturday', 
tlio fourteenth of January, the democratic 
senators agreed to have a meeting, and to 
take their final measures for passing the 
expunging resolution. They knew they 
had the numbers ; but they also knew 
they had adversaries to grapple with to 
■whom might be applied the proud motto 
of Ijouis the Fourteenth: "Not an un- 
equal match for numbers." They also 
knew that members of the party were in 
the process of separating from it, and 
would require conciliating. They met in 
the night at the then famous restaurant of 
Boulanger, giving to the assemblage the 
air of a convivial entertainment. It con- 
tinued till midnight, and required all the 
moderation, tact and skill of the prime 
movers to obtain and maintain the union 
upon details, on the success of which the 
fate of the measure depended. The men 
of conciliation were to be the efficient men 
of that night ; and all the winning re- 
sources of Wright, Allen of Ohio, and 
Linn of Missouri, were put into requisi- 
tion. There were serious differences upon 
the mode of expurgation, while agreed 
upon the thing; and finally obliteration, 
the favorite of the mover, was given up, 
and the mode of expurgation adopted 
wliicli had been proposed in the resolu- 
tions of the general assembly of Virginia, 
namely', to inclose the obnoxious sentence 
in a square of black lines — an oblong 
square : a compromise of opinions to which 
the mover agreed upon condition of being 
allowed to compose the epitaph — " Ex- 
piiiif/ed lit/ the order of the Senate." The 
agreement which was to lead to victorj' 
was then adopted, each one severally 
pledging himself to it, that there should 
should be no adjournment of the senate 
after the resolution was called until it 
was passed ; and that it should be called 
immediately after the morning business 
on the Monday ensuing. Expecting a 
protracted session, extending through the 
day and night, and knowing the difficulty 
of keeping men steady to their work and 
in good humor, when tired and hungry, 



the mover of the proceeding took care to 
provide, as far as possible, against such a 
state of things ; and gave orders that 
night to have an ample supply of coJd 
hams, turkeys, rounds of beef, pickles, 
wines, and cups of hot coffee, ready in a 
certain committee room near the senate 
chamber by four o'clock on the afternoon 
of Monday. 

The motion to take up the subject was 
made at the appointed time, and imme- 
diately a debate of long speeches, chiefly 
on the other side, opened itself upon the 
question. 

As the darkness of approaching night 
came on, and the great chandelier was lit 
up, splendidly illuminating the chamber, 
then crowded with the members of the 
house, and the lobbies and galleries filled 
to their utmost capacity with visitors and 
spectators, the scene became grand and 
impressive. A few spoke on the side of 
the resolution — c'hiefiy Rives, Buchanan, 
Niles — and, with an air of ease and satisfac- 
tion that bespoke a quiet determination, 
and a consciousness of victory. The com- 
mittee room was resorted to in parties of 
four and six at a time, always leaving 
enough on watch ; and not resorted to by 
one side alone. The opposition were in- 
vited to a full participation — an invitation 
of which those who were able to maintain 
their good temper readily availed them- 
selves; but the greater part were not in a 
humor to cat anything — especially at such 
a feast. 

The night was wearing away ; the ex- 
pungers were in full force — masters of the 
chamber — happj' — and visibly determined 
to remain. It became evident to the 
great opposition leaders, that the inevit- 
able hour had come ; that the ' damnable 
deed' was to be done that night; and that 
the dignity of silence was no longer to 
them a tenable position. The battle was 
going against them, and they must go into 
it, without being able to re-establish it. 
In the beginning, they had not considered 
the expunging movement a serious pro- 
ceeding; as it advanced, they still ex- 
pected it to miscarry on some point ; now, 



PASSAGE OF THE FAMOUS EXPUNGING EESOLUTION. 267 



the reality of the thing stood before them, 
confronting their presence, and refusing 
to " down " at any command. 

Mr. Calhoun opposed the measure, in a 
speech of great severity. The day (said 
he) is gone; night approaches, and night 
is suitable to the dark deed we meditate ; 
there is a sort of destiny iu this thing ; 
the act must be performed, and it is an 
ni:t wlilcli will tell upon the political his- 
tori/ of this country forever. 

Mr. Clay indulged in unmeasured de- 
nunciation of the whole thing. 

The last speech in opposition to the 
measure was made by Mr. Webster, who 
employed the strongest language he could 



was there. Expectation, and determina- 
tion to see the conclusion, were depicted 
upon every countenance. It was evident 
there was to be no adjournment until the 
vote should be taken — until the deed was 
done ; and this aspect of invincible deter- 
mination had its effect upon the ranks of 
the opposition. They began to falter 
under a useless persistence, for they alone 
now did the speaking; and while Mr. 
Webster was jet reciting his protest, two 
senators from the opposition side, who had 
been best able to maintain their equanim- 
ity, came round to the mover of the 
resolution, and said: 'This question has 
degenerated into a trial of nerves and 












1 AO-SIMILE copy OF THE 

command, condemnatory of an act, -which, 
he declared, was so xmconstitutional, so 
(lernr/titor;/ to the character of the senate, 
and marked with so broad an impression of 
compliance with power. 

But, though thus pronounced an irregu- 
lar and unconstitutional proceeding, by 
Mr. Webster and the other senators with 
whom he sided and voted, Mr. John 
Quincy Adams, who was at the time a 
member of the house, and in direct antag- 
onism, politically, to Mr. Benton and to the 
Jackson administration, held a different 
opinion. 

Midnight (says Mr. Benton, in con- 
tinuing his account,) was now approach- 
ing. The dense masses which filled every 
inch of room in the lobbies and the gal- 
leries, remained immovable. No one 
went out ; no one could get in. The floor 
of the senate was crammed with privileged 
persons, and it seemed that all congress 



EXPUNGING RESOLUTION. 

muscles. It has become a question of 
physical endurance ; and we see no use in 
wearing ourselves out to keep off for a few 
hours longer what has to come before we 
separate. We see that jou are able and 
determined to carry your measure — so, 
call the vote as soon as you please. We 
shall say no more. Jlr. Webster con- 
cluded. No one rose. There was a pause, 
a dead silence, and an intense feeling. 
Presentlj' the silence was invaded by the 
single word, "question" — the parliament- 
arj' call for a vote — rising from the seats 
of different senators. One blank in the re- 
solve remained to be filled — the date of its 
adoption. It was done. The acting presi- 
dent of the senate, Mr. King, of Alabama, 
then directed the roll to be called. The 
yeas and nays had been previously ordered, 
and proceeded to be called by the secretary 
of the senate, the result showing a majority 
of five on the side of the expungers. 



268 PASSAGE OF THE FAMOUS EXPUNGING RESOLUTION. 



The passage of the resolution was an- 
nounced from the chair. Mr. Benton rose, 
and said that nothing now remained hut 
to execute the order of the senate, wliich he 
moved be done forthwith. It was ordered 
accordingly. The secretary thereupon pro- 
duced the original manuscrijit journal of 
the senate, and opening at the page which 
contained the condemnatory sentence of 
March twenty-eighth, 1834, proceeded in 
open senate to draw a square of broad 
black lines around the sentence, and to 
write across its face in strong letters 
these words : 

"Expunged by order of the sex- 
ate, THIS 16th day of March, 1837." 

Up to this moment, the crowd in the 
great circular gallery, looking down upon 
the senate, though sullen and menacing in 
their looks, had made no manifestation of 
feeling. Things were in this state when 
the secretary of the senate began to per- 



form the expunging process. Instantly 
a storm of hisses, groans, and vociferations 
arose from the left wing of the gallerj', 
over the head of Mr. Benton. Anticipat- 
ing the possibility of violence, some of the 
senator's friends had gone out and brought 
arms into the hall. No use, however, was 
made of them, the mob being intimidated 
bj' one of the ringleaders being seized by 
the sergeant-at-arms and brought to the 
bar of the senate ; and the expunging 
process was performed in quiet. The 
gratification of General Jackson was ex- 
treme. He gave a grand dinner to the 
expungers and their wives ; being, how- 
ever, too weak to sit at the table, he only 
met the company, placed the ' head ex- 
punger' in the chair, and withdrew to his 
sick chamber. That expurgation ( re- 
marks Mr. Benton,) was the crowning 
glory of Jackson's civil, as New Orleans 
had been of his military, life. 



XXXIII. 

MAGNIFICENT AURORA BOREALIS ENCOMPASSING 

THE WHOLE FIRMAMENT TO ITS FARTHEST 

BOUNDS.— 1837. 



A Vast Canopy of Gorgeous Crimson Flames Encircles the Earth. — Arches of Resplendent Auroral 
Glories Span the Hemisphere — Innumerable Scarlet Columns of Dazzling Beauty Rise from the 
Horizon to the Zenith — The Face of Nature Everywhere Appears, to an Astonished World, as if 
Dyed in Blood. — Uncommon Extent and Sublimity. — Kemarkable Duration and Aspects. — Intensely 
Luminous Character. — Universal Outburst of Luster. — Preceded by a Fall of Snow. — First Signs of 
the Phenomenon. — Exquisite Rosy Illumination — The Snow Appears Deep Red. — A Fiery Vermil- 
ion Tinge to Nature. — Alarm Produced by the Scene. — Great Moving Pillar of Light. — Vivid Stream- 
ers in All Directions. — Pure White and Brilliant Colors. — Contrast of the Glowing Tints. — Wide 
Fields of Rainbow Hues. — Radiant Beauty Heaven-Wide — Superlative Pageant of Splendor. — Perfec- 
tion of the Stellar Form. — Millions of Wondering Observers — Visible Nearly the Whole Night. — 
Accounts from Different Points. — Europe's Share in the Display. 



" Depth, height, breadth. 

Arel^tin their extrt-mee; and where tn count 
The thick-Bnwn elone« in these tieida of fire. 
Perhaps a ssraph'it computution fui's." 




'EARS of observation, covering many cen- 
turies, and embracing all zones and lati- 
tudes, give no record of any display of 
auroral glories equal, in sublimity, mag- 
nificence, and extent, to the aurora borealis of 
November fourteenth, 1837. Of the various 
accounts of this phenomenon, as furnished by 
observers in different parts of the land, the fol- 
lowing will suffice to show its marvelous beauty 
SINGULAR FORM OF AURORAL ARCH. aud graudeur, — remarkable for its amplitude, its 

duration, its intense luminosity, and the brilliancy of its colors. Scientific observations 
of the phenomenon were made by Professors Barnard, Herrick, Twining, Joslin, Silli- 
man, Gibbs, Henry, Dewey, Redfield, and others, and these were republished in all 
parts of Europe, attracting universal attention. 

The city of New Haven had been visited, during the day of the fourteenth, with a 
moderate storm of snow, which began to subside between the hours of five and six in 
the evening. The heavens continued, however, to be more or less obscured by clouds 
during the entire evening ; on which account, the splendors of the aurora, as they man- 
ifested themselves to observers more favorably situated, were here in a great degree 
concealed. The veil of snow-clouds, which, at sunset, and for some time afterward, 
covered the sky, was nevertheless exceedingly thin ; and it was through this, and ev«a 



ro 



AURORA BOREALIS. 



through the falling snow itself, that the 
first visible indications of the presence of 
an aurora were discovered. Though the 
exact time at which the phenomenon com- 
menced could not be known, it had doubt- 
less been in progress for awhile, before the 
intensity of the light became suiScient to 
penetrate the screen. The first evidence 
of its existence consisted in a strong rosy 
illumination of the entire arch of the 
heavens. 

Of this appearance, Professor Olmstead, 
then of New Haven, says : The snow, 
which at sunset had covered the earth and 
all things near it, with a mantle of the 
purest white, closed, early in the evening, 
with a most curious and beautiful pageant. 
About six o'clock, while the sky was yet 
thick with falling snow, all things sud- 
denly appeared as if dyed in hlood. The 
entire atmosphere, the surface of the earth, 
the trees, the tops of the houses, and, in 
short, the whole face of nature, were 
tinged with the same scarlet hue. The 
alarm of fire was given, and the vigilant 
firemen were seen parading the streets in 
their ghostly uniform, which, assuming the 
general tint, seemed in singular keeping 
with the phenomenon. The light was 
most intense in the north-west and north- 
east. At short intervals it alternately 
increased and diminished in brightness, 
until, at half-past six, only a slight tinge 
of red remained on the sky. On account 
of the light being thus transmitted through 
the snowy medium and a thin veil of clouds, 
the aurora borealis was diffused like the 
light of an astral lamp, covered with a 
red shade of ground glass. That the 
stratum of clouds was very thin, was 
inferred from the fact, that, before half- 
past six, a few stars were discernible as 
when seen through a fog ; and such was 
the appearance of the moon, which rose 
about the same time. Within ten minutes 
from the time the heavens began to assume 
their fiery appearance, the whole clouded 
hemisphere shone with that marvelously 
brilliant light, which, reflected in rosy 
tints by the snow on the ground, produced 
a scene indescribably gorgeous. To some 



observers, the auroral flush seemed to over- 
spread all j)arts of the sky almost simul- 
taneously. 

East of New Haven, the storm was more 
protracted. At New London, the snow 
was falling copiously, fi,nd continued so, 
unabatedly, during the whole evening. 
But, notwithstanding the storm, the heav- 
ens seemed as if they were on fire, — a 
lurid light on all sides, from the zenith to 
the horizon, casting a most vulcanean hue 
on the fallen snow. The light seemed the 
same in every portion of the firmament, 
but without any apparent cause. 

In the city of New York, the display, 
as witnessed from an eminence which com- 
manded an unobstructed view of the hori- 
zon in every direction, was, in the latter 
part of the evening, magnificent beyond 
description. At about a quarter before 
six, the attention of observers was at- 
tracted by a most unusual appearance of 
the heavens. The sky was whollj^ over- 
cast, as in New Haven, at the same hour; 
though the cloud was not sufficiently 
dense, absolutely to obscure all the stars, 
of which quite a number were seen from 
time to time, faintly glimmering through. 
At the time of the first observation, the 
whole heaven was suffused with a lovely 
carnation, brightest, apparentlj', at the 
commencement in the zenith, but soon 
afterward rather toward the north-east. 
This tint, reflected on the snow, clothed 
all nature with a red-tinted garniture, of 
supernal beauty. It gradually faded, 
though at the end of an hour it was still 
slightly perceptible. The sky then rap- 
idly cleared, and all traces of the aurora 
passer' away. 

Bu it about half-past seven, the north 
and east being still overcast, and some 
stratified clouds extending themselves 
along the horizon around toward the west, 
a brightness began to appear in the north- 
west, which, in a very short time, extended 
itself upward forty-five degrees, in a col- 
umn of diffused light, quite broad at the 
base, and tapering to a point. This col- 
umn moved very slowly southward, and at 
length became divided into two of similar 



AUEORA BOREALIS. 



271 




1L4.GNIFICENT AURORA BOREALIS OF NOVEMBER 13 AND 14, 1837. 



character. But in the meantime, in all 
the north, and especially in the north-west, 
numerous streamers began to make their 
appearance. They became faintly red at 
the height of about thirty degrees, and the 
redness of the whole blended itself into one 
general cloud, while the columns continued 
distinct and white below. The changes 
were rapid, but the red tint covered the 
heavens nearly to the zenith for a long 
time. The moon, emerging from the 
clouds, a little before eight, detracted 
from the brightness of the display. The 
whole subsided, or nearly so, shortly after 
eight, and observations were discontinued. 
A few minutes before nine, however, 
the community was summoned to witness 
a new exhibition of auroral wonders, the 
lustrous grandeur of which no tongue could 
tell, nor pen portray. The heavens were 
at this time wholly unclouded, with the 
exception of a single very small and faint 
cirrus high in the north-west. Innumer- 
uble bright arches shot up from the whole 
northern semi-circle of the horizon, and 
from even farther south, all converging to 
the zenith with great rapidity. Their 
upper extremities were of the most bril- 



liant scarlet, while below they were ex- 
ceedingly white. At the formation of the 
corona, the appearance of the columns 
below, which were very numerous and 
bright, resembled that of bright cotton of 
long fiber, drawn out at full length. The 
intermingled hues afforded each other a 
mutual strong relief, and exhibited the 
most dazzling contrasts ever beheld. The 
stellar form was wonderfully perfect and 
regular. Toward the west, there was a 
sector of more than twenty degrees of 
unmingled scarlet, superlatively beautiful. 

The duration of this display was quite 
remarkable, ^or three-quarters of an 
hour after its formation, which took place 
about nine o'clock, the corona continued, 
with variable brightness, to maintain its 
position a little to the south of the zenith. 
At about half-past nine, the northern col- 
umns had become disconnected from it, 
and had subsided very low, the heavens 
being clear between. But long before this, 
and, indeed, within a few minutes after 
nine, the south was as completely filled 
with corresponding columns as the north. 

For a time, therefore, tlie earth was 
conijiletely ouerarchtid by a perfect canopj 



272 



AURORA BOREALIS. 



of glory! The southern columns, which 
seemed to proceed downward from the 
corona, rested on an arcli of diffused light, 
extending in a great circle from east to 
west, or nearly so, and being about twenty 
degrees, or a little more, above the hori- 
zon, in the center. All below the arch 
was of the strange darkness so usual at 
such times in the north. The southern 
columns were at no time so bright as the 
northern, but they maintained their posi- 
tion, after these last had retired, — extend- 
ing still from the corona to the arch which 
formed their base. The appearance was 
at this time that of an aurora australis, 
and this continued for more than a quarter 
of an hour. Streamers, for a while, con- 
tinued to shoot up irregularly in the north, 
but they did not again reach the zenith. 
By half-past ten, all evidence of the phe- 
nomenon disappeared from the heavens, 
and the hosts of charmed observers reluc- 
tantly abandoned their watch. 

In the western part of New York state, 
the exhibition was most superb, as seen 
and described at various points of observa- 
tion. In Buffalo and neighborhood, the 
aurora was perceived at its first approacli. 
At about quarter-past five o'clock, the 
heavens being clear in the north and for 
fifty degrees both east and west of that 
point, an unusual ruddy appearance was 
noticed. This soon faded, leaving barely 
a perceptible tinge ; and instantly, when 
nearl}- all color had disappeared elsewhere, 
a space of some fifteen degrees in diame- 
ter, immediately west of Cassiopeia and 
Andromeda, and north of Pegasus, was 
lighted up with red, of a particularly deep 
hue. This was entirelj- disconnected, on 
ever}' side, from any auroral light or 
appearance whatever, and, from its center, 
pencils of white radiated to the periphery 
on every side. 

After this appearance had continued 
some five minutes, the white lines disaj)- 
peared, and the whole space in question 
assumed a uniform red color, which was 
almost instantly thereafter extended, in 
an arch of the same width, through the 
zenith, and down to the horizon about 



sixty degrees west of north. On the east, 
this light did not extend itself; and, 
during the whole time, the clear space 
existing in the north retained its usual 
color and appearance. Deep red streams, 
penciled with white, then began to appear 
and fade in the north, but without the 
tremulous motion of ' merry dancers.' 
Those in the north-east maintained their 
brightness longest. 

At about fifteen minutes before six 
o'clock, the clouds had become more dense 
and dark, though still in detached masses, 
particularly throughout that portion of the 
heavens which had been occupied by the 
red arch above mentioned, and these 
isolated clouds now assumed an appearance 
at once novel and striking. Those west 
of the zenith, and Ij'ing within the track 
of the crimson arch already described, 
suddenly exhibited the most vivid red 
along their entire southern borders ; while 
the like clouds east of the zenith, and fol- 
lowing the same track, and prolonging it 
quite down to the eastern horizon, assumed 
the same vivid color upon their northern 
borders ; no other portion, however, of 
these clouds, exhibited any of the charac- 
teristics of auroral light. South of this 
line, there was at no time anj' auroral 
light whatever; and at the moment in 
question, there was very little in an}- other 
parts of the heavens, save on the borders 
of these clouds. At nine minutes before 
six, the red edgings of these clouds began 
to fade, and immediately a wide space in 
the north-east, that was still free from 
clouds, was most brilliantly lighted up. 
The color was of the same deep red, but it 
did not extend down to the horizon ; and 
this had scarcely continued four minutes, 
when the whole region north of the zenith, 
to witliin about eight degrees of the hori- 
zon, was again reddened and glowing — 
while, beyond these limits, either north or 
south, no vestige of the aurora was visible. 
Just two minutes before six, the moon 
appeared above the horizon, and as it was 
only two days past the full, its beams soon 
surpassed in brightness those of the 



AURORA BOREALIS. 



273 



In Hudson, Ohio, at the "Western 
Reserve College, some of the earlier dis- 
plays of the phenomenon were noticed by 
Professor Loomis. This was some five 
minutes after six, when he observed that 
a small pile of light, of a reddish hue, lay 
upon the horizon, in a direction a little 
north of north-west, and a similar pile in 
the east of north-east. Between these 
there was a low faint cloud, bounded by a 
somewhat ill-defined arch, rising in its 
center about ten degrees from the horizon. 
Above this arch, a diffused light streamed 
upward toward the zenith, in one or two 
places, being somewhat more condensed, 
forming beams. This light increased 
rapidly in brightness ; it became of a more 
decided crimson color, extended up to the 
zenith, and, at the same time, light began 
to shoot up from several points in the east, 
and somewhat south of east. At a quarter- 
past six, meantime, a pretty regular arch 
was formed, extending from the above- 
mentioned pile of light in the north-west. 
This arch was rather irregular in its out- 
line, and had a slightly crimson color. In 
about five minutes, another arch of white 
light partially formed in the southern sky, 
and had nearly the same direction with 
the preceding ; but this arch was never 
complete, and soon vanished entirely. The 
great arch, however, before described, 
brightened up again in very nearly the 
same position as previously. About half- 
past eight, light of a crimson color was 
observed to shoot from the eastern horizon 
toward and beyond the zenith, nearly in 
the position of the former arch. The 
heavens were now nearly covered with thin 
cirro-cumulus clouds, and the contrast of 
the ordinary clouds with this crimson 
auroral light, produced a very singular 
effect. The sky remained cloudy during 
the night. 

Strange though it may appear, this 

beautiful and magnificent phenomeaon 

was visible during nearly the whole night 

in the neighborhood of St. Louis, Mo., 

and was particularly brilliant between the 

hours of twelve and one, when the moon 

was near its zenith. Time in St. Louis 
18 



being rather more than one hour earlier 
than in New York, this midnight display 
was contemporaneous with the latest 
return of the aurora in the longitude of 
New York ; but this, which was the least 
energetic in the latter, appears there to 
have been the most remarkable. 

The commencement of the phenomenon 
in Philadelphia was similar to that ob- 
served at New York. At a later period, 
the lights were again visible, and, between 
nine and ten o'clock, exceeded in extent 
and brilliancj', anything of the kind ever 
before witnessed in that region. A broad 
field of crimson flame, stretching from 
nearly a western course, and reaching the 
eastern hemisphere, encompassed the 
heavens with a brilliant glory, of indescrib- 
able beauty and magnificence, hanging, 
as it were, suspended from the blue rault 
above, like an immense curtain over the 
earth — while, from almost every point of 
the compass, shot up rays of rich and gor- 
geous light, spreading and intermingling 
with a wavy tremulous motion, and exhib- 
iting every hue of the clearest rainbow. 
The richness, variety, and delicacy of the 
colors, were surpi'isingly beautiful, as was 
their prismatic brilliancy. The sky itself 
was remarkably clear and cloudless — and 
through the celestial phenomena, a full 
moon and innumerable stars were, all the 
while, distinctly visible. 

In Marj-land, according to the observa- 
tions made at Emmettsburg, the first indi- 
cation of the aurora's approach was given 
as soon as it became dark, by the singular 
redness of the cumulo-stratus clouds, now 
entirely covering the sky. Those in the 
north, south, east and west, all partook of 
the redness, the reflection from them being 
strong enough to give a red tinge to the 
snow. The heaviest clouds retained their 
dark color in the center, but they were 
bordered with red. During the hour in 
which this state of things existed, there 
were no streamers, streaks of light, nor 
merry dancers. Indeed, where the sky 
could be seen between the clouds, there 
were no signs of an aurora, but rather a 
deep green sky. By seven, the moon 



274 



AUKORA BOREALIS. 




VIEW OF THE AURORA BOREALIS IN ITS EAHI.V STACKS 



being nsen, and the clouds having van- 
Lshed, notliiiig remained to show tliat there 
had been any unusual occurrence. A little 
after nine, however, the sky being per- 
fectly clear, an aurora suddenly sprang up, 
which, for niagnificejice, surpassed any- 
thing of the kind ever before witnessed in 
that section. The streamers from the 
east, west, and north, converged a few 
degrees south of the zenith, forming a 
beautiful auroral crown, red as scarlet, but 
intermingled with streaks of pale light. 
There were no merry dancers, but all the 
other appearances usually witnessed on 
such occasions were noticed. In little 
more than half an hour, the grand display 
was over, for the most part. 

Observers at Annapolis, Md., describe 
the aurora there as coming on in waves, 
■■4 about a quarter before six, and return- 
ing at seven, at eight, and at nine. The 
first arch was formed suddenly, and became 
vertical in a very few minutes, from the 
first appearance of the columns at the 
north-west and south-east. It was crim- 
son, traversed by white pencils. The 
color of the light at eight o'clock was not 
red, but dusk}', and formed from the north- 



west point to the pole star, a broad column, 
which kept its position for half an hour. 
A succession of fire cirrus clouds floated 
off from the lower parts of the column to 
the south. At nine o'clock, the recurrence 
of the crimson light was more in patches, 
and of intense brightness, accompanied by 
cirro-cumulus clouds, which were formed 
sudden]}' over the whole sk}', and were 
borne swiftl}' to the east by the wind. 

Near Alexandria, Va., the early dis- 
pla}', as seen from east south-east to 
west south-west, exhibited a rich orange 
red color, extending even to the zenith, 
and covering all the heavens north of these 
points. The return occurred toward nine 
o'clock, in a brilliant and fiery form. 

The aj)pearance of the aurora in South 
Carolina commenced about six o'clock, in 
the shape of a bank o- store-house of auro- 
ral vapor towards the north. When first 
observed, a space of about fifteen degrees 
above the horizon was strongly marked by 
a pale white light, above which the crim- 
son hue peculiar to this phenomenon began 
to be distinctly visible. At this time, the 
greatest degree of brightness was to the 
east of north, assuming no \ery definite 



AUROEA BOEEALIS. 



275 



form, but extending about eight or ten 
degrees east, and reaching in height to the 
constellation of Cassiopeia's chair, the 
lower portion of which was enveloped in 
its reddening glow. The action then sub- 
sided ; but at about eight o'clock, another 
bright crimson column ascended due north, 
attaining an altitude some degrees greater 
than that of the polar star, and maintaining 
its place about half an hour. After this 
had faded away, no return was observed 
until half-past nine, when there was per- 
ceived another broad arch of crimson light, 
ascending several degrees to the west of 
north. 

In certain sections of Georgia, the phe- 
nomenon commenced a little after dark. 
The sky a little to the north of the star 
Capella, began to appear luminous, and a 
luminous arch was soon formed, of about 
six or eight degrees in breadth, and 
extending over to the north-western hori- 
zon, having the pole star in its highest 
point. Soon after the arch was formed, 
that part of it in the north-east horizon 
became much brighter, and somewhat 
broader than the rest; and this luminous 
portion gradually rose, and passed on in 
the arch, its densest part culminating a 
little below the north star. It continued 
its motion to the western horizon. 

An hour and a half was occupied by the 
passage of the luminous part of the arch 
just described. It became somewhat 
fainter, after it had passed the meridian, 
and it gradually was lost to sight, begin- 
ning first to disappear in the east, so that 
not a vestige remained at nine o'clock, 



three hours from its first appearance. The 
color of the arch was that of light scarlet, 
the most luminous part being a little 
darker, and much more intense. Its form 
was that of a semi-circle, having for its 
base about sixty degrees of the horizon. 
It differed from the aurora in its regular 
outline, as well as its regular motion from 
east to west, and was witnessed with admir- 
ation and astonishment. 

So extensive was this magnificent celes- 
tial phenomenon, that it exhibited its won- 
derful splendors, contemporaneously, to 
the inhabitants of Europe and America, 
though the presence of clouds greatly 
interfered witli the attractiveness and 
grandeur of the exhibition in the former. 
At half-past twelve, however, — says one of 
the observers in England, — a patch of the 
most intense blood-red colors ever seen, 
was visible, free from the interposition of 
clouds. The whole of the sky had an 
awful appearance ; for the tinge of red 
which pervaded the whole expanse, 
assumed, in man^- points, from the depth 
of colors above, and the density of the 
clouds below, the dark copper tint, which 
is seen on the disk of the moon during a 
lunar eclipse. It was such a sight as fills 
the mind with wonder and awe ; and, in 
America at least, was the most marvelous 
of the kind ever known ; though that of 
August and September, 1859, proved but 
little inferior in some respects. In north- 
ern Europe, this phenomenon is quite 
frequent, and Mr. Bayard Taylor describes 
one of rare beauty which he there wit- 
nessed. 



XXXIV. 

BREAKING OUT OF THE TEMPERANCE REFORMA- 
TION.— 1840. 



Origin, Rapid Spread, Influence, and Wonderful History of the MoTement. — Enthusiasm Attending the 
" Wasliingtonian " Era. — Its Pioneers Rise from the Gutter to the Rostrum, and Sway Multitudes by 
their Eloquence — Father JIathew's Visit. — His 600,000 Converts. — Career of Hawkins. Mitchell, 
Gough, Dow, and Others. — First Temperance Society in the United States. — Singular Terms of 
Membership. — Social Customs in Former Times — Unrestrained Use of Spirits. — Growing Desire foi 
Reform. — Influential Men Enlisted. — Meetings, Societies, Agitation. — A Congressional t)rganizatioD. 
— Origin of " Tee-Totalism." — Deacon Giles's Distillery. — " My Mother's Gold Ring " — Rise of 
" W'asliingtonianisra." — Six Reformed Drunkards. — Cold Water Armies, Processions, etc. — Music, 
Banners and Badges — The Country All Ablaze — An " Apostle of Temperance." — Administering the 
Pledge — Conflict Concerning Measures. — Anecdotes of Washington. — General Taylor's Whiskey 
Jug. — Farragut's Substitute for Grog. 



*' I«hall not close this letter without ezhortiag you to refViUn *rom spirituous liquors; they will prove your ruin if you do not. Consider 
bow httle a drunkeo man dlffera from a beast; the latter is not eudowed with reason, the former deprives himself of iL"— 0»>E8AI. Wasa- 

lJIOTU.\. 



. ERHAPS it would be difficult to name the precise date ■when 
active public efforts were initiated in the United States to 
check the widespread evil of intemperance. It is not to 
be doubted, however, that the writings of that eminent 
man of science, Dr. Benjamin Rush, of Philadelphia, 
especially his " Inquiry into the Effects of Ardent Spirits 
upon the Human Body and Mind," issued as early as 1804, 
did much to awaken an interest in the subject, on the part 
of the community. But not until 1808, was there any 
movement of an associated character, for public or indi- 
vidual abandonment of the use of intoxicating drinks. 

But it sounds somewhat strangely, in these later da3-s of 
radical reform, that the initial movement referred to, and 
which was entitled " The Temperate Society of Moreau and Northumberland," (towns 
in the county of Saratoga, N. Y.) originated by Billy Clarke, should be based upon 
regulations like the following : — 

"No member shall be intoxicated, under penalty of fifty cents. No member shall 
drink rum, gin, whiskey, wine, or any distilled spirits, or compositions of the same, or 
any of them, except by the advice of a physician, or in case of actual disease (also 
excepting wine at public dinners), under penal tj- of twenty-five cents ; provided thai 
this article shall not iufringe on anj' religious ordinance. No member shall offer any 
of said liquors to any other member, or urge any other person to drink thereof, 
under penalty of twenty-five cents for each offense." 




EFFECT OF REFORMATION. 



THE TEMPERANCE EEFORMATIOK 



27' 



But the day of small beginnings, in a 
humane cause, is never to be despised, 
and, in a few years, the reform had 
enlisted the earnest co-operation of law- 
yers, divines, and other eminent men, such 
as Carey, Palfrey, Humphrey, Dexter, 
Marsh, Edwards, Beecher, Porter, Leavitt, 
Hewit, Day, and Kittredge. In 1813, 
there was formed the Massachusetts Soci- 
ety for the Suppression of Intemperance ; 
one in Connecticut, in 1829 ; and, in 1826, 
the American Temperance Union. The 
statistics of this period present the calcu- 
lation, that, out of a white population of 
ten millions, between three and four mil- 
lions were habitual spirit-drinkers, of whom 
three hundred and seventj'-five thousand 
drank daily on an average three gills of 
ardent spirits, while an equal number con- 
sumed more than twice that quantity, and 
of course were drunkards. Making due 
allowance for the imperfectness of such 
statistical data, it was admitted by all, 
that the intemperate use of spirituous liq- 
uors, in every part of the laud, had become 
alarmingly prevalent. 

The excellent resume of this movement, 
as given by Dr. Emerson Davis, himself 
one of its ablest and most efficient sup- 
porters, states that at this time the reform 
seemed to be simultaneous through the 
country. At the beginning of 1828, the 
custom, hitherto so general, of treating 
visitors with wine, cordials, and brandy, 
began to disappear. The sideboards of 
the rich and influential, which from time 
immemorial had groaned under a load of 
decanters, were relieved of their burdens, 
and a very great change in the customs of 
society began to be apparent. At the 
close of 1828, the number of temperance 
societies reported in the temperance jour- 
nals was two hundred and twenty-five. 
At the close of 1829, there were more 
than one thousand such societies, embrac- 
ing more than one hundred thousand 
members, pledged to total abstinence ; 
fifty distilleries had stopped, four hun- 
dred merchants had abandoned the traffic, 
and twelve hundred drunkards had been 
reclaimed. On the first of May, 1831, it 



appeared that more than three hundred 
thousand persons had signed the pledge, 
and not less than fifty thousand were sup- 
posed to have been saved from a drunkard's 
grave. Even at Washington, a congres- 
sional temperance society was organized, 
under the auspices of such men as Cass, 
Grundy, Bates, Wayne, Post, Durbin, and 
others ; and some of the most brilliant 
public men signed the pledge. 

A very common objection (adds Dr. 
Davis), made by many of the poor, was, 
that they could not afford to drink wine, 
and, therefore, that signing the pledge 
operated unequally; it took from them 
the use of .all stimulants but cider and 
beer, but it left to the rich the use of wine, 
which was often about as strong as Cognac 
brandy. In order to obviate this objec- 
tion, it was found necessary to introduce 
a new pledge, prohibiting the use, not 
only of distilled, but of fermented, liquors. 
The first society that adopted this pledge 
was the Eighth Ward Branch of the New 
York City Temperance Society. This 
was called the tee-total pledge, — a name 
first given to it in England, and which 
had its origin in the prolonged and inco- 
herent stuttering, by one who was taking 
the pledge, at the first letter in the word 
' ^otal.' This tee-total pledge was intro- 
duced into this country in 1834, and in 
a short time many societies were formed 
on that principle. Many, however, who 
signed the old pledge, refused to sign the 
new ; and thus there was an apparent fall- 
ing off in the number of the members of 
temperance organizations. Some, too, who 
had delivered public addresses, and stood 
foremost in the ranks of reformers, were 
thrown into the background, and became 
silent spectators of passing events. 

Among the prominent promoters of the 
cause, appear the names of Delavan, Nor- 
ton, Keener, Gerritt Smith, Moses Grant, 
Loyd, Collins, Briggs, Walworth, Grundy, 
Hunt. Stewart, and Hoar, as speakers. 
Mr. L. M. Sargent contributed powerfully 
to the reform, by his unrivaled temper- 
ance talcs, including that widely circulated 
and admired production, "Mi/ Mother's 



278 



THE TEMPERANCE REFORMATION. 



Gold Ring." Pierpont inspired thousands 
by his quaint and thrilling poems ; and 
the letters, essays, and other writings, of 
such men as Woodward, Warren, Baird, 
Beman, Chapin, Kirk, Channing, and 
Barnes, added greatly to the impression 
upon the public mind. Among the inci- 
dents of tills period, perhaps none created 
greater interest and excitement through- 
out the whole land, than the assault, prose- 
cution, and imprisonment, of Rev. George 
B. Cheever, of Salem, Mass., subsequently 
of New York. About the beginning of 
18.35, he published in a Salem newspaper, 
a dream, descriptive of " Deacon Giles's 
Distillery," in which the liquors were 
graphically characterized as containing 
demons in an inferno. Deacon Giles was 
a veritable person, and the publication 
resulted in a violent assault ujson Mr. 
Cheever, one night, by the foreman of the 
distillery, who inflicted upon the unarmed 
clergyman a number of severe blows with 
a raw hide, to which Mr. Cheever made no 
resistance. Mr. Cheever was also prose- 
cuted for libel, and sentenced to thirty 
days' imprisonment. He was regarded as 
a martyr to the cause of temperance, and 
his case helped rather than checked the 
progress of the reform. He continued to 
do valiant service, as before, with his pen 
and voice, ranking, in this respect, with 
such men as Clarke, Grimke, Fisk, Coffin, 
AVoods, Williams, Merrill, Sewall, Pond, 
Thurston, Reese, Van Loon, Jewett, Buck- 
ingham. 

But a most stirring and enthusiastic 
impetus was yet to be given to the temper- 
ance movement, and that through the 
liumblest personal instrumentality. This 
was the organization of the Washington 
Temperance Society, in Baltimore, in the 
month of April, 1840 ; its most roniarka- 
l)le convert being Mr. John K. W. Haw- 
kins, who joined the society the following 
June. 

It appears that six individuals, who 
were in the habit of associating together, 
were seated, as usual, on Friday evening, 
April 2, 1840, in Chase's tavern, in Lib- 
erty street, Baltimore, where they were 



accustomed to meet almost every evening, 
for the purpose of enjoying mutually all 
the benefits and conveniences which that 
establishment and each other's society 
could possibly afford. These were Wil- 
liam K. Mitchell, tailor ; John F. Hoss, 
carpenter ; David Anderson, blacksmith ; 
George Steers, blacksmith ; James McCur- 
ley, coach-maker; and Archibald Camp- 
bell, silver-plater. A clergyman who was 
preaching in the city at that time, had 
given public notice that on that evening 
he would deliver a discourse on the sub- 
ject of temperance. Upon this lecture, 
the conversation of the six comrades pres- 
ently turned ; whereupon it was agreed 
that four of them should go and hear it, 
and report accordingly. So, after the ser- 
mon, they returned and conversed on its 
merits for some time ; when one of the 
company remarked, ' After all, temperance 
is a good thing.' ' Oh,' said the host, 
'they're all a parcel of hypocrites.' 'Oh, 
j-es,' replied McCurley, ' I'll be bound for 
you; it's your interest to cry them down, 
anj-how.' '/ tell you ivhut, hoijs, let's 
form a society, and make Bill Mitchell 
president.' ' Agreed,' cried they. The 
idea seemed to take wonderfully, and the 
more they talked and laughed over the 
idea, the more were they pleased with it. 

After parting that night, they did not 
all meet again until Sunday, when they 
took a stroll, and, between walking and 
treating, they managed to arrange the 
whole matter to their entire satisfaction. 
It was agreed that one of them should 
draw up a pledge, and that the whole 
party should sign it the next day. Accord- 
ingly, on Monday morning, Mitchell wrote 
the following pledge: 'We whose names 
are annexed, desirous of forming a society 
for our mutual benefit, and to guard 
against a pernicious practice, which is 
injurious to our health, standing, and fam- 
ilies, do pledge ourselves as gentlemen, 
that we will not drink any spirituous or 
malt liquors, wine, or cider.' 

He went with this, at .about nine o'clock, 
to Anderson's house, and found him still 
in bed, sick from the effects of his Sunday 



THE TEMPERAJSrCE EEFORMATION. 



279 



adventures. He arose, however, dressed 
himself, and, after liearing the ph^dge read, 
vj'ent down to his shop with liis friend for 
pen and ink, and there did himself the 
honor of being the first man to sign. 
After obtaining the names of the remain- 
ing four, the wortliy president iinished 
this noble achievement by adding his own. 
On the evening of that day, they met at 
the residence of one of their number and 
duly formed themselves into a society, with 
the usual officers. Little did these six 
associates know of the fame and achieve- 
ments thej' were moulding ! 

Having thus got under way, they next 
turned their attention to obtaining mem- 
bers and devising means to defray the 
expenses of their meetings ; it was there- 
fore agreed that each man should bring a 
man, and every one should pay twenty-five 
cents upon becoming a member, and 
twelve and a half cents, monthly, there- 
after. 

The next debate was as to the name 
they should give to their society. A num- 
ber were proposed, among them that of 
Jefferson ; when it was finally agreed that 
the president and secretary should be a 
committee to draft a constitution, and 
select a name. This they did, giving to 
the association the name of the "Wash- 
ington Temperance Society," in honor 
of the Father of his Country, and were 
consequently known as Washlngtonians. 
It is a little singular, however, that this 
name should have been chosen, for, 
though Washington was 
one of the brightest ' 
examples of temperate 
eating and drinking, he 
habitually used liquor 
or wine himself, an 
pro^nded it for his 
guests and laborers. 
The following curious 
document is in point : 

" Articles of Agree- 
ment made this twelfth 
day of April, Anno 
Domini, one thousand ? 
seven hundred and 



eighty-seven, by and between George 
Washington, Esq., of the Parish of Truro, 
in the County of Fairfax, State of Vir- 
ginia, on the one part, and Philip Bater, 
Gardener, on the other. Witness, that 
the said Philij) Bater, for and in 
consideration of the covenants herein 
hereafter mentioned, doth promise and 
agree to serve the said George Wash- 
ington for the term of one year, as a 
Gardener, and that he will, during said 
time, conduct himself soberly, diligently 
and honestly — that ho will faithfully and 
industriously perform all and every part of 
his duty as a gardener, to the best of liis 
knowledge and abilities, and that lie will 
not, at any time suffer himself to be dis- 
guised with liquor, excejit on the times 
hereafter mentioned. In consideration of 
these things being well and truly per- 
formed on the part of the said Phii^p 
Bater, the said George Washington doth 
agree to allow him (the said Pliilip) the 
same kind and quantity of provisions as he 
has heretofore had ; and likewise, annually, 
a decent suit of clothes, befitting a man in 
his station ; to consist of a coat, vest and 
breeches ; — a working-jacket, and breeches 
of home-spun besides ; two white shirts ; 
three checked do ; two linnen pocket-hand- 
kerchiefs, two pair linnen overalls ; — as 




SIGNIHO THE PLEDGE. 



280 



THE TEMPERAJSrCE REFOEMATION. 



many pair of shoes as are actually neces- 
sary for him ; — four dollars at Christmas, 
with which he may he drunk four days 
and four nights ; tivo dollars at Easter to 
effect the same purpose ; two dollars at 
Whitsuntide, to be drunk two days; — a 
dram in the inorning and a Drink of Grog 
at Dinner at noon.'" 

The above is signed by the two con- 
tracting parties, and witnessed by George 
A. Washington and Tobias Lear. In 
unother instance, Washington's fine in- 
stincts and principles are admirably dis- 
played : 

" I shall not close this letter," writes 
Washington to one of his overseers, 
"without exhorting you to refrain from 
spirituous liquors; they will prove your 
ruin if j-ou do not. Consider how little a 
dr-'.nken man differs from a beast ; the 
iatter is not endowed with reason, the 
former deprives himself of it ; and when 
that is the case, acts like a brute, annoy- 
ing and disturbing every one around him ; 
nor is this all, nor, as it respects himself, 
the worst of it. By degrees it renders a 
person feeble, and not only unable to 
serve others, but to help himself; and 
being an act of his own, he falls from a 
state of usefulness into contempt, and at 
length suffers, if not perishes, in penury 
and want. Don't let this be your case. 
Shew yourself more of a man and a Chris- 
ian than to yield to so intolerable a vice, 
which cannot, I am certain, (to the great- 
est lover of liquor,) give more pleasure to 
sip in the poison, (for it is no better,) than 
the consequence of it in bad behavior at 
the moment, and the more serious evils 
produced bj' it afterwards must give pain." 

Great and wonderful were the results 
destined to flow from the ' Washington 
Temperance Society,' thus started by those 
six inebriates in the city of Baltimore. 
At their second meeting, they had two 
new members ; but, in a comparatively 
short time, the society increased so much 
that it became a question how they could 
employ their time so as to make their 
meetings interesting. The president there- 
upon suggested that each member should 



rise in his place and give his experience ; 
and, by way of commencement, he arose 
and told what he had passed through in 
the last fifteen j-ears, and the advantages 
he had derived from signing the total- 
abstinence pledge. This was the origin ot 
that most popular and efficient method 
which the Washington Society and all its 
auxiliaries adopted, for giving interest 
and effect to their gatherings. Signers 
were thus obtained, and the attention ot 
the public was attracted, so that a class 
was reached which otherwise might not 
have been affected bj^ the labors of those 
other good men who had for so many 
years been engaged in promoting temper- 
ance in a different wa}-. 

By Christmas, in 1840, the reform had 
become so popular, that thousands had 
flocked to its standard, and enrolled them- 
selves as the friends of temperance. The 
wave had swept onward, and tidings of the 
great reformation reached distant cities. 
On invitation from New York, for a dele- 
gation of five men to hold experience 
meetings twice every day for one week, in 
that citj', Messrs. Hawkins, Pollard, Shaw, 
Casey, and Mitchell, proceeded to that 
place, and there held the first Washing- 
tonian missionary temperance meeting 
ever known in the United States. It was 
a type of that success which was to 
accompany this new system in behalf 
of temperance, for, during each of the 
speeches, multitudes came forward and 
signed the pledge, and, taken altogether, 
such a scene had never before been wit- 
nessed in New York. 

But the most powerful among all the 
advocates of Washingtonian reform was 
Mr. Hawkins, who rose from the very gut- 
ter of drunkenness to the rostrum of im- 
passioned eloquence in advocacy of reform, 
and with prodigious success. The pecu- 
liar circumstances of his history had an 
almost overpowering effect on his own 
feelings, whenever he spoke, and his au- 
diences listened now breathlessly, and 
anon with uncontrollable demonstrations 
of enthusiasm. He was a man of plain, 
good common sense, with a peculiar sin- 



THE TEMPERANCE REFORMATION. 



281 



cerity about him, and an easy way of 
working up his hearers to a state of sym- 
pathy with him. He would at one time 
assume the melting mood, and picture the 
scenes of a drunkard's home — and that 
home his own — and the fountains of. gen- 
erous feelings, in many hearts, gushed 
forth in tears ; and again, in a moment, 
as he related some ludicrous story, those 
tearful eyes glistened with delight, sighs 
changed to hearty shouts, and long faces 
were convulsed with broad grins and 
glorious smiles. Drunkards and outcasts 
of the worst type, that swarm in the fes- 
tering purlieus and penetralia of New York, 
were reclaimed, and such was the over- 
whelming power of the movement, that, 
finall}', immense meetings were held in the 
Park. In Boston, too, the old Cradle of 
Liberty rocked with tumultuous enthusi- 
asm for ' independence ' from the tyrant of 
strong drink. Festivals, children's cold 
water armies, processions, banners, bands 
of music, songs, etc., filled the whole land 
with the feast of reason and the flow of 
soul. 

Statistics might be indefinitely pre- 
sented, showing the vast results achieved 
b}' this wonderful moral enginery. Up- 
wards of twenty-two thousand names were 
obtained to the pledge by Messrs. Pollard 
and Wright, in a lecturing tour made by 
them through Central New York, New 
Jersey, and Pennsylvania. Messrs. Vicars 
and Small and Smith revolutionized Ohio 
and the West ; Hawkins, Bishop, John- 
son, Hayes, and Haydock, labored from 
one end of the country to the other. Haw- 
kins alone, in less than twenty years, 
traveled more than two hundred thousand 
miles, lecturing between five and six thou- 
sand times. Latham, Madden, Snow, 
White, Cary, Leigh, Coffin, Brown, Riley, 
Bungaj', Copway, Zug, Drinkard, Thomp- 
son, are names that will ever be remem- 
bered, too, as powerful and successful 
advocates of this reform, on the rostrum ; 
and those of Pierpont, Burleigh, Phillips, 
Tappan, and others, by their stirring 
songs and poems. But, chief and most 
powerful of the many advocates of the 



temperance reformation, is John B. Gough, 
who has proved himself in this arena, a 
wonderful orator. His eloquence, indeed, 
was of that electric quality which, striking 
a chord in every heart and drawing tears 
from every eye, perfectly swayed the vast 
multitudes that hung upon his words 
wherever he went. Every city, town, and 
village, throughout the country, felt the 
impress of bis wonderful power in this 
great reformatory movement. Like Haw- 
kins, his condition was humble, but from 
this he had descended to the lowest depths 
of social and personal degradation until 
rescued b}^ the interposition of a friendly 
hand. No data can adequately describe 
the extent and value of his labors from 
that time forth, for a quarter of a century 
and more. 

But a new and most interesting, as well 
as important chapter, in the history of 
temperance, is yet to be mentioned, namely^ 
the visit of Father Mathew, the world- 
renowned 'Apostle of Temperance' in 
Ireland, to this countrj', in 1849. For 
ten years previously, he labored as a tem- 
perance agitator and reformer in Ireland 
and England. In five months, he obtained 
150,000 converts in Cork ; and in Galway, 
he administered the pledge to no less than 
100,000 in tvFO days ! On his landing at 
New York city, the civil authorities ac- 
corded him the honor of a public recep- 
tion, — certainly well deserved, by one .vho 
had been the instrument, under divine 
guidance, of reclaiming 6,000,000 of his 
fellow-creatures. He visited the principal 
cities, north and south, and everywhere a 
hearty welcome was extended to him from 
all classes. He remained several da3's in 
Washington, where he was entertained 
at a grand dinner by the president of the 
United States, and received many dis- 
tinguishing marks of esteem from gentle- 
men highest in the offices of the govern- 
ment. He was honored, also, with a seat 
on the floor of the house of representa- 
tives, and within the bar of the United 
States senate. At Philadelphin, he re- 
ceived his welcome in Independence Hall ; 
and at Boston, the doors of Faneuil Hall 



282 



THE TEMPERAJSTCE REFORMATIOK 




DI3T1KGUI3HED TEMPEKA.N'CE ADVOCATES. 



THE TEMPERANCE EEFOEMATION. 



283 



opened to him on golden liiiiges of accla- 
mation, and where he administered the 
pledge to upwards of four thousand per- 
sons the first day. His method of admin- 
istering the pledge was somewhat novel, 
though at the same time quite affecting. 
The converts knelt in a semi-circle around 
him, and repeated the following words : 

' I promise, with divine assistance, to 
abstain from all intoxicating liquors, cor- 
dials, cider and fruit liquors, and to pre- 
vent, as much as possible, intemperance in 
others, by advice and example.' 

To this, Father Mathevv's response was, 
' May God bless you, my childi'en. May 
he give you grace and strength to keep 
the pledge.' He then went to each indi- 
vidual and marked them with the sign of 
the cross ; but this latter ceremony, and 
the kneeling, were dispensed with in the 
case of Protestants. In this way, the 
venerable and devoted man traveled over 
almost the entire country, zealously ad- 
vocating his great principles, and xipwards 
of six hundred thousand persons enrolled 
themselves under his banner of total 
abstinence. Upon descending the Missis- 
sippi, be administered in one of the towns 
situated on its banks, the pledge to seven 
hundred persons. He ascended it, after 
an interval of some months, and stopping 
at the same town, he had the gratification 
to find that among the converts there were 
but three instances of relapse. Though 
not possessed of the oratorical graces of 
eloquence, like those of Gough, he knew 
how to present truth with such force and 
sincerity, as to win almost irresistibly 
upon all hearers. The following anecdote 
will illustrate his peculiar forte : 

'Did you see Father Mathew lately?' 
said one friend to another, whom he hai> 
pened to meet. ' I did,' was the reply. 
'And I'll engage he made you take the 
pledge ! ' 'He did, indeed. But did j/nu 
see him lately?' 'To be sure I did.' 
' And did he make you take it too ? ' 
' That he did ! ' ' There's no escaping 
him ; but I am not sorry for it.' ' No, nor 
I neither.' 

Personally, Father !Mathew was a little 



above the ordinary stature, with a full 
and well-proportioned figure, dark hair, 
soft blue eyes, ruddy and healthy com- 
plexion. 

Though characterized by periods of 
prosperity and declension, the temperance 
cause has proved itself ineradicable, even 
under circumstances seemingly the most 
untoward. Perhaps the greatest struggle 
through which it has passed, in later years, 
has been that which involved the enact- 
ment of state prohibitory laws, which 
visited stringent penalties upon those who 
sold spirituous liquors. The'name of Neal 
Dow, the author and advocate of this kind 
of legislation, the discussion attending 
which has been one of the most important 
and exciting during the century, will for- 
ever be identified with the history of the 
American temperance reformation, as will 
also the names of Greeley and Miner, dis- 
tinguished champions of the same prin- 
ciple. 

It would be an easy task to fill a whole 
volume with distinguished testimonies to 
the value of temperance. As this, how- 
ever, would here be impossible, a few 
pleasant illustrative incidents will suffice 
the purpose. 

Towards the close of the revolutionary 
war, an officer in the American army had 
occasion to transact some business with 
General Washington, and repaired to 
Philadelphia for that purpose. Before 
leaving, he received an invitation to dine 
with the general, which was accepted and, 
upon entering the room he found himself 
in the company of a large number of ladies 
and gentlemen. As they were mostly 
strangers to him, and he was of a naturally 
modest and unassuming disposition, he 
took a seat near the foot of the table, and 
refrained from taking an active part in 
the conversation. Just before the dinner 
was concluded, Washington politely re- 
quested him, by name, to drink a glass of 
wine with him. 

' You will have the goodness to excuse 
me, general,' was the reply, 'as I have 
made it a rule not to take wine.' 

All eyes were instantly turned upon the 



284 



THE TEMPERANCE REFORMATION. 



young officer, and a murmur of contempt 
and surprise ran around the room. That 
a person should be so unsocial, not to say 
mean, as never to drink wine, was really 
too bad ; but that he should abstain from 
it on an occasion like that, and even when 
offered to him by Washington himself, 
was really intolerable ! Washington no- 
ticed at once the feelings of his guests, 
and promptly addressed them in his grar 
cious and winning way, saying: 

'Gentlemen, Mr. is right. I do 

not wish any of my guests to partake 
of anything against their inclination, 
and I certainly do not wish them to 
violate any established principle in their 

intercourse with me. I honor Mr. for 

his frankness, for his consistency in thus 
adhering to an established rule which can 
never do him harm, and for the adoption 
of which, I have no doubt, he has good 
reasons.' 

General Taj'lor, the hero of the Mexi- 
can war, always gave the weight of his 
example in favor of temperance. A trav- 
eler in the west one day encountered an 
emigrant journeying with his family to 
the fertile regions beyond the Mississippi, 
all his worldly goods being packed on 
wagons, and on one load there hung a 
huge jug with the bottom broken out. 
The emigrant was asked his reason for 
carrying that with him. ^Vhy,' he said, 



'that is my Taylor jug.' And what is a 
Taylor jug ? ' inquired the friend. ' Why,' 
said the emigrant, ' I had a son with Gen- 
eral Taylor's army in Mexico, and the old 
general always told him to carry his whis- 
key-jug with a hole in the bottom ; and 
since that, I have carried my jug as you 
see it, and I find it is the best invention I 
ever met with.' 

Everybody admired Admiral Farragut's 
heroism in clinging to the topmast to 
direct a battle ; but there was another 
particular of that contest, illustrating no 
less forcibly his heroic character. ' Ad- 
miral,' said one of his officers, the night 
before the battle, ' won't you consent to 
give Jack a glass of grog in the morning, 
not enough to make him drunk, but enough 
to make him fight cheerfully ? ' ' Well,' 
replied the admiral, ' I have been to sea 
considerably, and have seen a battle or 
two, but I never found that I wanted rum 
to enable me to do my duty. I will order 
two cups of coffee to each man, at two 
o'clock ; and, at eight o'clock, I will pipe 
all hands to breakfast, in Mobile bay.' 
And he did give Jack the coffee ; and 
then he went up to the mast-head, and the 
result is well known. 

These illustrations of devotedneiis to the 
principle of temperance in high places 
might be greatly multiplied. Their value 
to the cause can hardly be overestimated. 



XXXV. 

FREMONT'S HEROIC EXPEDITION OF DISCOVERY TO 

THE UNTRACKED REGION OF THE NORTH-WEST, 

OREGON, CALIFORNIA, ETC.— 1842. 



His Exploration of the Sierra Nevada, and of that Wonderful Gateway in tlie Rocky Mountains, the 
South Pass. — Plants tlie American Flag on the Highest Peak of that Lofty Range. — He EnrichiM 
Every Branch of Natural Science, and Illustrates a Remote and Boundless Country Before Entirely 

Unknown. — Fremont, a Pioneer of Empire. — National Objeci.s 
of this Tour — Enchanting Record of Adventure. — Surveys 
and Researches. — Humboldt's Tribute of Admiration. — Wild 
Grandeur of the Route. — Scenes in this Vast Domain. — The 
Rocky Mountains : First Glimpses. — Formation of the South 
Pass. — " Kit Carson," the Intrepid Guide. — At the Topmost 
Peak, 14,000 Feet —Startling Boldness of the View.— Over- 
powering Quiet and Solitude. — Evidences of Awful Convul- 
sions. — Unfurling the Flag of the Union. — Appearance of 
Great Salt Lake. — Eternal Snows of the Sierra Nevada. — In 
the San Joaquin Valley. — An Immense Circuit of Travel — 
Fremont, the Modern Path6nder. — Honors from His Country- 
men — A King's Gift and Regards. 




"Prominently deaervinp of distineuislied recognition ia the service rendered to 
^eoiitaphicui acienre by the American explorer, Fremont." — Ki.Mi FiiEUkK.c 
William IV., upPbussia, to Bahun Uumooldt. 



VERY American reader is enchanted with the narrative of 
EXi'LOBiKOTUEsoitTu-wEST. thosB intrepid and heroic explorations of Fremont, "the 
Pathfinder," ■which, in the language of Humboldt, — himself the greatest scientific 
explorer and geographer the world has ever seen, — " enriched every branch of natural 
science, and illustrated a vast country before entirely unknown," and in appreciation 
of which he received from his admiring countrymen the highest tokens of honor, and, 
from kingly hands, acknowledgments inscribed on tablets of gold. 

Several exploring tours of the western portion of our continent, within the geograph- 
ical boundaries of the country subsequently known by the title of Oregon, took place 
before that which was led by the brave Fremont, but none with such rich and varied 
results as the latter. 

It being desirable for our government to become full}' acquainted with the chs.racter 
of the vast territory between the southern geographical boundary of the United States 
and the Rocky Mountains, around the head-waters of the Missouri, Fremont was 
appointed to superintend that exploring tour, under the direction of Colonel Abert, 
the chief of the topographical bureau at Washington, and by him projected and 



286 



FEEMONT'S EXPEDITION. 



planned, with the approval of Secretary 
Poinsett. The great object of this expe- 
dition was to examine and report upon the 
rivers and country between the frontiers 
of Missouri and the base of the Rocky 
Mountains ; and especially to examine the 
character, and ascertain the latitude and 
longitude of that ivonderful gatewatj, the 
South Pass, the great crossing place to 
these mountains on the way to Oregon. 

In executing liis official instructions, 
Fremont proceeded up the Kansas river 
far enough to ascertain its peculiar feat- 
ures, and then crossed over to the Great 
Platte, and pursued that river to its source 
in the mountains, where the Sweet AVater 
— a head branch of the Platte — issues 
from the neighborhood of the South Pass. 
He reached the Pass on the eighth of 
August, and found it to be a wide and low 
depression of the mountains, of very easy 
ascent, and where a plainly beaten wagon 
load leads to the Oregon through the vallej^ 
of Lewis's river, a fork of the Columbia. 
He went through the Pass, and saw the 
head-waters of the Colorado, of the Gulf 
of California; and, leaving the valleys to 
indulge a laudable curiosity, and to make 
some useful observations, Fremont, at- 
tended by four of his men, climbed the 
loftiest peak of the Eocky Mountains, 
until then untrodden by any known human 
being ; and, on the fifteenth of August, 
looked down upon ice and snow some thou- 
sand feet below, and traced in the distance 
the valle^-s of the rivers which, taking 
their rise in the same elevated ridge, flow 
in opposite directions to the Pacific ocean 
and to the Mississippi. From that ultimate 
point he returned by the valley of the 
Great Platte, following the stream in its 
whole course, and solving all questions in 
relation to its navigability, and the feat- 
ures of the country through which it flows. 

On the prairies which border the forks 
of the river Platte, the travelers bivou- 
acked in the evening, eating their meat 
with a good relish ; for they were all in fine 
health, and had ridden nearly all of a long 
summer's day, with a burning sun reflected 
from the sands. 



Wlien about si.rttj miles distant, the 
party caught the first faint glimpse of the 
Kocky Mountains. Though a tolerably 
bright day, there was a slight mist, and 
the snowy summit of ' Long's Peak,' 
showing like a small cloud near the hori- 
zon, was just barely discernible. There 
was, however, no mistake in distinguishing 
it, there being a perceptible difference 
in its appearance from the white clouds 
that were floating about the sky. 

Proceeding onward through hostile 
tribes of Indians, Fremont reached the 
first military frontier post — Fort Laramie ; 
departing thence, in a short time, for the 
bases of the " great mountains." With 
the change in the geological formation on 
leaving Fort Laramie, the whole face of the 
country appears entirely changed. East- 
ward of the meridian, the principal objects 
which strike the eye of the traveler are 
the absence of timber, and the immense 
exjianse of jsrairie, covered with the verd- 
ure of rich grasses, and highly adapted 
for pasturage. Wherever they are not 
disturbed by the vicinity of man, large 
herds of buffalo give animation to this 
country. 

Many sufferings were endured in reach- 
ing the Rocky Mountains, but the follow- 
ing details show that the labors of the 
party were amply rewarded. About six 
miles from their encampment brought the 
party to the summit of the South Pass. 
The ascent had been so gradual, that, with 
all the intimate knowledge possessed by 
Carson, the guide, and who had made that 
country his home for seventeen years, the 
part}' were obliged to watch very closely 
to find the place at which they had reached 
the culmin.ating point. This was between 
two low hills, rising on either hand fifty 
or sixty feet. From the broken ground 
where this pass commences, at the foot of 
the Wind River Chain, the view to the 
south-east is over a champaign country, 
broken, at the distance of nineteen miles, 
by the Table Rock, which, with the other 
isolated hills in its vicinity, seemingly 
stands on a comparative plain. The 
' Pass' in no manner resembles the places 



FREMONT'S EXPEDITION. 



287 



to which that term is commonly applied — 
nothing of the gorge-like character and 
winding ascents of the Alleghany passes 
in America, nor of the great St. Bernard 
and Simplon passes in Europe. Approach- 
ing from the mouth of the Sweet Water, a 
sandy plain, one hundred and twenty miles 
long, conducts, by a gradual and regular 
ascent, to the summit, about seven thou- 
sand feet above the sea ; and the traveler, 
without being reminded of any change, 
by toilsome ascents, suddenly finds him- 
self on the waters which flow to the Pacific 
ocean. On this short mountain-chain are 
the head-waters of four great rivers of the 
western continent, namely, the Colorado, 
Columbia, Missouri, and Platte rivers. 




[ PLANTING AMKRICAN FLAR OK THE 
ROCKY MOOKTAIXS, BY FKEMONT. 

A scene of characteris- 
tic adventure was that of 
reaching the summit of 
these mountains. Putting 
hands and feet in the crev- 
ices between the blocks, 
Fremont succeeded in get- 



ting over it, and, on attaining the top, 
found his companions in a small vallej' 
below. Descending to them, they con- 
tinued climbing, and in a short time 
reached the crest. He sprang upon the 
summit, and unfurled the national flag to 
wave in the hreeze where never flag tvaved 
before. 

During the morning's ascent, no sign 
of animal life was met with, except a small 
sparrow-like bird. A stillness the most 
profound and a solitude the most terrible 
forced themselves constantly on the mind 
as the great features of the jjlace. Here, 
on the summit, where the stillness was ab- 
solute, unbroken by any sound, and the 
solitude complete, the explorers thought 
themselves beyond the region of animated 
life ; but, while they were sitting on the 
rock, a solitary humble-bee came winging 
his flight from the eastern valley, and lit 
on the knee of one of the men. It was a 
strange place, the icy rock and the highest 
peak of the Rocky Mountains, for a lover 
of warm sunshine and flowers. The 
barometer stood at 18.293, the attached 
thermometer at 44 degrees ; giving for 
the elevation of this summit 13,570 feet 
above the sea, it may be called the highest 
known flight of the bee. From this pre- 
sumed loftiest peak of the great mountain 
range, — since kiiown as Fremont's Peak, — 
could be seen innumerable lakes and 
streams, the spring of the Colorado of the 
Gulf of California, on the one side ; on the 
other, was the Wind River valley, where 
were the heads of the Yellow Stone branch 
of the Missouri ; far to the north could be 
faintly descried the snowy heads of the 
Trois Tetons, where were the sources of 
the Missouri and Columbia rivers ; and at 
the southern extremity of the ridge, the 
peaks were plainly visible, among which 
were some of the springs of the Nebraska, 
or Platte river. The whole scene around 
had one main striking feature, which was 
that of tn-rib/e convulsion. Parallel to 
its length, the ridge was split into chasms 
and fissures ; between which rose the thin 
lofty walls, terminated with slender minar 
rets and columns. 



288 



FEEMONT'S EXPEDITION. 



Fremont's next toux- was devoted to 
Oregon and California. On arriving at 
tlie Utah lake, he had completed an 
immense circuit of twelve degrees diame- 




ter north .and south, and ten degrees east 
and west. They found themselves in 
May, 1844, on the same sheet of water 
which they had left in September, 1843. 
The Utah is the southern limb of the 
Great Salt Lake ; and thus they had seen 
this remarkable sheet of water both at its 
northern and southern extremity, and were 
able to fix its position at these two points. 
In this eight months circuit, the explorers 
found that the mountains on the Pacific 
slope are higher, more numerous, and more 
distinctly defined in their ranges and 
directions, than those on the Atlantic side ; 
and, what is contrary to the natural order 
of such formations, one of these ranges, 
which is near the coast — the Sierra Nevada 
and the Coast Range — presents higher 
elevations and peaks than any which are 
to be found in the Rocky Mountains them- 
selves. During all this circuit, the party 
were never out of sight of snow; and the 
Sierra Nevada, where thej^ crossed it, was 
nearly two thousand feet higher than the 
famous South Pass. Peaks are constantly 
seen which enter the region of eternal 
snow. 

Differing so much from the Atlantic 



side of our continent in coast, mountains, 
and rivers, the Pacific side differs from it 
in 3-et another most rare and singular 
feature — that of the Great Interior Basin. 
The structure of the country would require 
this formation of interior lakes, for the 
waters which would collect between the 
Rocky Mountains and the Sierra Nevada, 
not being able to cross this formidable 
barrier, nor to get to the Columbia or the 
Colorado, must naturally collect into reser- 
voirs, each of which would have its little 
system of streams and rivers to supply it. 
The Great Salt Lake is a formation of this 
kind, and quite a large one, having many 
streams, and one considerable river, four 
or five Imndred miles long, falling into it. 
Fremont saw this lake and river, and 
examined them ; he also saw the Wahsatch 
and Bear River mountains inclosing the 
watei's of the lake on the east, and consti- 
tute, in that quarter, the rim of the Great 
Basin. Afterwards, along the eastern 
base of the Sierra Nevada, where the party 
traveled for forty-two days, they saw the 
line of lakes and rivers which lie at the 
foot of that sierra, and wliich sierra is the 
western rim of the basin. In going down 
Lewis's Fork, and the main Columbia, they 
crossed only inferior streams coming in 
from the left ; and often saw the mountains 
at their heads, white with snow, which 
divided the waters of the desert from those 
of the Columbia, — the range of mountains 
forming the rim of the basin on its north- 
ern side. In returning from California 
along the Spanish trail, as far as the head 
of the Santa Clara Fork of the Rio Virgen, 
the party crossed only small streams 
making their waj' south to the Colorado, 
or lost in sand, as the Mo-hah-ve ; while 
to tlie left, lofty mountains, their summits 
white with snow, were often visible — and 
which, Fremont concluded, must have 
turned water to the north as well as to the 
south, thus constituting, on this part, the 
southern rim of the basin. At the head 
of the Santa Clara Fork, and in the Vegas 
de Santa Clara, they crossed the ridge 
which parted the two systems of waters. 
They entered the basin at that point, and 



FREMONT'S EXPEDITION. 



289 



continued for some time to travel in it, 
having its south-eastern rim — the Wah- 
satch mountain^-on the right, and cross- 
ing the streams which flow down into it. 

In this eventful exploration, all the 
great features of the western slope of our 
continent were brought to light — the 
Great Salt Lake, the Utah Lake, the Little 
Salt Lake — at all which places, then desert, 
the Mormons now are ; the Sierra Nevada, 
then solitary in the snow, now crowded 
with Americans, digging gold from its 
banks ; the beautiful valleys of the Sacra- 
mento and San Joaquin, then alive with 
wild horses, elk, deer, and wild fowls, now 
smiling with American cultivation. The 
Great Basin itself, and its contents ; the 
three Parks ; the approximation of the 
great rivers which, rising together in the 
central region of the Rocky Mountains, go 
off east and west towards the rising and 
the setting sun, — all these, and other 
strange features of a new region, more 
Asiatic than American, were brought to 



It was in May, 1845, that Fremont set 
out on his third expedition for the explora- 
tion of the Great West, and he was soon 
at the north end of the great Tla-math 
lake, and in Oregon. Hostilities being 
likely to break out between the United 
States and Mexico, Fremont, in order to 
avoid exciting any unjust suspicion as to 
the character of his movements, obtained 
leave of the Mexican general at Monterey, 
to encamp during the ensuing winter, in 
the San Joaquin valley. It was not long, 
however, before open diplomatic hostilities 
broke out between the two republics, and 
Fremont received word from his govern- 
ment to keep an eye upon Mexican and 
other designs upon California. General 
Kearney, by order of government, was 
constituted head of the army of the west, 
which was to retaliate sternly upon 
Mexico, for her assumed aggressions. 
New Mexico was soon prostrate before 
American arms. On the fifth of July, 
1846, under the lead of Fremont, a band 




FREMONT OS HIS QBEAT EXPI/ORINQ TOCR TO THE FAR WEST AND BOCKT MOUKTAIHS. 



light and revealed to public view in the 
results of this exploration. But the great 
pathfinder was to win laurels in stiU 
another field. 



of Americans declared their independence 
of Mexico at Sonoma, a small town near 
San Francisco, and, not long after, they 
joined Commodore Sloat, who had recently 



290 



FREMONT'S EXPEDITION. 



reduced Monterej'. The successor of Sloafc 
was Stockton, who, in connection with 
Fremont, at once gained possession of 
Ciudad de los Angelos, the capital of 
Upper California; and one event speedily- 
succeeded another, until, seemingly as 
inevitable as the gravitation of fate, the 
loss of California was consummated, and 
Fremont was appointed governor of the 
territory, which, largel}'' through his efforts, 
had now become a permanent possession 
of the United States. 

So curious a link in this chain of events, 
as the throwing off of the Mexican yoke 
at Sonoma, and illustrating so aptly, as it 
does, the intrepidity of the great explorer, 
possesses an interest peculiarly appropriate 
to this narrative. Having aided in clear- 
ing the enemy from the country north of 
the bay of San Francisco, Fremont re- 
turned to Sonoma on the evening of the 
fourth of July, and, on the morning of the 
fifth, called the people together, explained 
to them the condition of things in the 
province, and recommended an immediate 
declaration of independence. The declar- 
ation was made, and he was selected as 
governor, or chief director of affairs. 

From Sonoma to Yerba Buena, (says 
one who accompanied him,) the little 
hamlet where now stands the queen city 
of the Pacific, Fremont augmented his 
stock of horses to the number of fifteen 
hundred, completely clearing the country; 
and then commenced one of the most pecu- 
liar races for a fight ever probably known. 
Rarely speaking but to urge on his men, 
or to question some passing native, taking 
the smallest modicum of refreshment, and 
watching while others snatched a moment's 
repose, was he wrapped up in his project 
and determined to have some of the fisht. 

o 

Through San Pablo, and Monterey, and 



Josejiha, they dashed like the phantom 
riders of the Hartz mountains, startling 
the inhabitants, and making the night- 
watcher cross himself in terror as their 
band flew on. The river Sacrificios was 
reached ; swollen by the rains, it rolled on, 
a rapid, muddy stream ; his men paused. 

" Forward ! Forward f " cried Fremont. 

Dashing in himself, the struggle is a 
fierce one, but his gallant mustang breasts 
the current, and he reaches the opposite 
shore in safety ; his men after a time join 
him, two brave fellows finding a watery 
grave, and many horses being carried down 
the stream ; but nothing can now stop 
him — the heights adjacent to the Puebla 
appear — nam a smile might be seen on the 
imperturbable visage of the leader — 'tis the 
sixth day, and the goal is won ! 

With ninety men on the last of his car- 
avan of horses, he fell like a thunderbolt 
on the rear of the Mexicans. The day 
was with them ; the little band of stout 
hearts guarding the presidio, taken by 
surprise, and not having the advantage of 
the Mexicans in regard to horses, were 
beginning to waver. But cheer up, cheer 
again — succor is at hand. On come those 
riders of Fremont — nothing can withstand 
their shock. With shouts of triumph they 
change the battle to a rout. The field is 
won ! The rout of the enemy was com- 
plete, and so ended the ride of the one 
hundred. Thus did Fremont display, by 
the rarest achievements, the character of 
a consummate scientific explorer and brave 
soldier ; and, for his pre-eminent services 
in behalf of geographical science, he 
received the highest honors from the 
learned societies of Europe and America, 
and a rich and massive gold medal from 
the king of Prussia, through the hands of 
Baron Humboldt. 



XXXYI. 

MUTINY ON BOARD THE UNITED STATES BRIG-OF-WAR 
SOMERS, CAPTAIN A. 8. MACKENZIE.— 1842 



De^^.Laid Plot to Seize the Vessel, Commit Wliolesale Murder of Her Men, Raise the Black Flag, and 
C onvert Her into a Pirate. — All Prizes to be Plunderer], Burnt, their Crews Butchered, and Women 
::nd Girls Ravished — .Midshipman Spencer, Son olf a United States Cabinet Officer, the Ringleader. 
— The Chief Conspirators Hung at the Yard-Arm. — First Mutiny in the United States Navy. — Spen- 
cer's Hold Upon His Comrades. — Death the Penalty of Disclosure. — Confidence Fortunately Mis- 
placed. — A Man of Honor Tampered With. — Captain Mackenzie Informed of the Plot. — Treats it 
as Wild and Improbable. — Confronts and Questions Spencer. — Orders Him to be Ironed — Plan Found 
in His Razor-Case. — Alarming Disatfection of the Crew. — None of the Officers Implicated — (Hose 
Investigation of the Case. — Spencer, Cromwell, and Small, to Die. — Their Fate Announced to 
Them. — Spencer's Account of His Life. — They Meet On Their Way to be Hung. — Treatment of 
Each Other. — Spencer Begs to Give the Last Signal. — Closing Scene of the Tragedy. — All Hands 
Cheer tlie Ship — Raising the Banner of the Cross. 




" 1 am leagued to eet p.tssession of the vepsel. murder the comirntider no"* officers 
choose from among the crew who are williiip to join me euch ns will be useful, murdei 
the rest, flnrt Lomm.?tice piraling; to attuck do vessels that I am not sure to capture, 
to destroy every vestige of the cultured vesKCls; ami to select such of the Ceniale passfil . 
eers as are suitable, and, after using them aufticicutly, to dispose of liiera." — 'JiPEyct-A^a 



EENLY was the heart of the universal American 
nation wrung, in December, 1842, at the story of the 
mutiny and tragedy on board the United States brig 
Somers, then under the command of Captain Alex- 
ander Slidell Mackenzie. The chief ringleader in 
this deep-dyed and amazing plot of crime and blood, 
THE BL-\cK FLAG. was no less a person than Midshipman Philip Spen- 

cer, son of the distinguished statesman, Hon. John C. Spencer, of New Yoik, seeretary- 
of-war under President Tyler, — officiating in that capacity at the very time of the 
ghastly occurrences here recited. 

In the whole history of the American navy, this act stands out by itself, without a 
jiarallel or precedent; and, surely, no pen of romance could weave a tale of imaginary 
crime equal in ghastly horror to this startling chapter — the first regularly organized 
mutiny in the annals of the United States naval service. 

The development of the mutinous scheme transpired on the voyage of the Somers to 
the United States from Liberia, from whicli place she sailed on the eleventh of Novem- 
ber, intending to proceed home via St. Thomas. It was on Saturday, the twentj--sixth 
of November, that Lieutenant Gansevoort went into the cabin and irformed Captain 
Mackenzie that a conspiracj' existed on board of the brig to capture her, murder the 
commander, the officers, and most of the crew, and convert her into a pirate, acting 
Midshipman Philip Spencer being at the head of it. He stated that Purser Hieskell 



292 



MUTINY ON BOARD THE BRIG SOMERS. 



had just informed him that Mr. Wales, 
his stewed, had approached him as if to 
converse'on their joint duty, and revealed 
to him, for the purpose of its being com- 
municated to the commander, important 
information. This was, that, on the night 
previous, being November twenty-fifth, he, 
Wales, had been accosted by Spencer, and 
invited by him to get up on the booms, as 
he had something uncommon to say. 
When on the booms, Spencer addressed 
him as follows : 

" Do you fear death ? Do you fear a 
dead man ? Are you afraid to kill a 
man?" 

Mr. Wales, thus accosted, and having 
his curiosity excited, with admirable cool- 
ness induced Spencer to go on, and took 
the oath of secrecy which was administered 
to him. Spencer then informed him that 
he was leagued with about twenty of the 
crew to get possession of the vessel, 
murder the commander and officers, choose 
from among those of the crew who were 
willing to join him such as would be 
useful, and murder the rest and commence 
pirating. He mentioned all the details of 
the plan, and which was well suited to the 
attainment of his object — involving, in- 
deed, much better notions of seamanship 
than he himself was capable of forming. 
As one of the inducements to her capture, 
he stated that a box, containing wine of 
rare value, brought off with much care at 
Madeira, as a present from the United 
States consul at Funchal to Commodore 
Nicholson, contained money or treasure to 
a large amount. It was his purpose to 
carry the vessel to the Isle of Pines, where 
one of his associates, who had been in the 
business before, had friends; to attack no 
vessels that he was not sure to capture ; to 
destroy every vestige of the captured 
vessels, after having removed what was 
useful ; to select such of the female pas- 
sengers as were suitable, and, after they 
had used them sufficiently, to dispose of 
them. Spencer also stated that he had 
the written plan of his project in the back 
of his cravat, which he would show to Mr. 
Wales in the morning. On separating, I 



Spencer gave expression to terrible threats 
of instant death to Wales from himself or 
his accomplices, should Wales utter one 
word of what had passed. 

So monstrous and improbable did this 
project appear to Captain Mackenzie, as 
thus related to him by Lieutenant Ganse- 
voort, that he at first treated it with ridi- 
cule, premising that Spencer had been 
reading some piratical stories, and then 
amused himself with working upon Wales's 
credulity. Considering it, however, to b« 
his duty to be on his guard, lest there 
should be even a shadow of reality in the 
scheme, Mackenzie directed his first lieu- 
tenant, Gansevoort, to watch Spencer nar- 
rowly, without, of course, seeming to do so. 
In the course of the day, Lieutenant 
Gansevoort gave information that Spencer 
had been in the wardroom examining a 
chart of the West Indies, and had asked 
the assistant surgeon some questions about 
the Isle of Pines, the surgeon replying 
that it was a place much frequented by 
pirates, and dryly asking him in return if 
he had any acquaintances there. He 
passed the daj' rather sullenly in one 
corner of the steerage, as was his custom, 
engaged in examing a small piece of paper 
and writing on it with his pencil, and 
occasionally finding relaxiition in working 
with a penkife at the tail of a devil-fish, 
one of the joints of which he had formed 
into a sliding-ring for his cravat. He had 
endeavored, too, for some days, to ascertain 
the rate of the chronometer, by applying 
to Midshipman Rodgers, to whom it was 
unknown, and who referred him to the 
master. With boatswain's mate F. Crom- 
well, and Elisha Small, seaman, he waa 
seen in secret and nightly conferences, and 
to both of these he had given money, as 
well as to others of the crew ; he had dis- 
tributed tobacco extensively among the 
apprentices, in deifiance of reiterated 
orders ; corrupting the wardroom steward, 
he caused him to steal brandy from the 
wardroom mess, with which Spencer not 
only got drunk himself, but administered 
it to several of the crew. Though servile 
in his intercourse with Captain Mackenzie, 



MUTINY ON BOARD THE BRIG SOMERS. 



293 



when among the crew Spencer loaded him 
with blasphemous vituperation, and pro- 
claimed that it would be a pleasing task 
to roll him overboard off the round-house. 
At one time he drew a hriy with a black 
flay, and asked one of the midshipmen 
what he thought of it ; he repeatedly 
asserted, in the early part of the cruise, 
that the brig might be easily taken ; and, 
a short time prior to the revelation of the 
plot, he had examined the hand of Mid- 
shipman Rodgers, told his fortune, and 
predicted for him a speedy and violent 
death. These and various other circum- 
stances, determined Captain Mackenzie to 
make sure at once of Spencer's person, 
and, accordingly, at evening quarters, all 
the officers were ordered to lay aft on the 
quarter-deck, excepting the midshipman 
stationed on the forecastle. The master 
was ordered to take the wheel, and those 
of the crew stationed abaft sent to the 
mainmast. Captain Mackenzie now ap- 
proached Spencer, and said to him — 




ic/jiXt cyHo^ycyncA^^^yt^e. 



" I learn, Mr. Spencer, that you aspire 
to the command of the Somers." 

" Oh no, sir," replied Spencer, with a 
deterential, but unmoved and gently smil- 
ing expression. 

" Did you not tell Mr. Wales, sir, that 



you had a project to kill the commander, 
the officers, and a considerable portion of 
the crew of this vessel, and to convert her 
into a pirate ? " 

" I may have told him so, sir, but it waa 
in joke." 

" You admit, then, that you told him 
so?" 

" Yes, sir, but in joke ! " 

" This, sir, is joking on a forbidden sub- 
ject — this joke may cost you your life ! 
Be pleased to remove your neck handker- 
chief." 

"^Vhat have you done with the paper 
containing an account of j'our project, 
which you told Mr. Wales was in the back 



-noth 



ing 



of your neck handkerchief ? " - 
being now found in it. 

"It is a paper containing my day's 
work, and I have destroj-ed it." 

" It is a singular place to keep days' 
work in." 

" It is a convenient one," was the defe> 
ential and bland reply. 

"You must have been aware that you 
could onlj' have compassed 3-our designs 
by passing over my dead body, and after 
that the bodies of all the officers. You 
had given j-ourself, sir, a great deal to do. 
It will be necessary for me to confine you, 
sir ; " saying which. Captain Mackenzie 
turned to Lieutenant Gansevoort with the 
order — " Arrest Mr. Spencer, and put him 
in double irons." 

Lieutenant Gansevoort stepped forward, 
and, taking Spencer's sword, ordered him 
to be double ironed, and, as an additional 
security, handcuffed. Lieutenant Ganse- 
voort was directed to keep a constant watch 
upon Spencer, to answer all his wants, but 
to have him instantly put to death if 
detected in speaking to or holding intelli- 
gence in any way with the crew. 

On searching Spencer's locker, a small 
razor-case was found, which he had re- 
cently drawn from the purser, with a 
razor in it. Instead of the razor, the case 
was found to contain a small paper, rolled 
in another ; on the inner one were strange 
characters, which proved to be Greek, a 
language understood by Spencer. It for- 



294 



MUTINY ON BOARD THE BRIG f-O.MKKS. 



tunately happened that Midshipman Rod- 
gers was also acquainted with Greek, and, 
on his converting the characters into En- 
glish, they exhibited well-known names 
among the crew. The certain — the doubt- 
ful — those who were to be kejjt whether 
they would join or not — those who were to 
do the work of murder in the various de- 
partments, to take the wheel, to open the 
arm-chests — were arranged in separate 
rows. 

The next day, the crew were inspected 
at quarters, at ten o'clock. Captain Mac- 
kenzie taking his station abaft, with the 
intention of particularly observing Crom- 
well and Small. The persons of both were 
faultlessly clean. Cromwell stood up to 
his full stature, his muscles braced, his 
battle-axe grasped resolutely, his cheek 
pale, but his eye fixed as indifferently, at 
the other side, and he had a determined 
and dangerous air. Small made a very 
different figure ; his appearance was 
ghastly ; he shifted his weight from side 
to side, and his battle-axe passed from one 
hand to the other ; his eye wandered irres- 
olutely, but never towards Captain Mac- 
kenzie. Cromwell was the tallest man 
on board, Small the shortest. 

From the known complicity of Cromwell 
in the plot, he was brought to the quarter- 
deck at night, where Cajitain Mackenzie 
caused him to sit down, and, on question- 
ing him as to a secret conversation he had 
held the night before with Spencer, he 
denied its being him, and said, " It was 
not me, sir, it was Small." Cromwell was 
immediately ironed; and Small, thus 
pointed out by an associate to increased 
b'jspicion, was also sent for, interrogated, 
and ironed. Increased vigilance was now 
enjoined upon all the officers ; henceforward 
all were perpetually armed ; and either 
the captain or his first lieutenant was 
always on deck, and generally both of 
them were. Several acts of disobedience 
occurring among the ship's companj^, pun- 
ishment was inflicted upon the transgres- 
sors to the full extent of the law ; after 
which, Captain Mackenzie took occasion to 
address the crew, explaining to them the 



general nature of Spencer's project, en- 
deavoring to divert the mmds of the 
slightly disaffected from the pictures of 
successful vice which the piratical riot 
presented, and informing them that the 
majority of them, whatever might be their 
inclinations, were to share the fate of the 
officers. It is an interesting fact, that 
every one of the officers of the Somers, 
from the first lieutenant to the command- 
er's clerk, proved faithful, chivalrous, and 
patriotic, from first to last. 

The effect of the captain's address was 
various, upon the minds of the crew. It 
filled many with horror at the idea of what 
they had escaped from ; it inspired others 
with terror at the danger awaiting them 
from their connection with the conspiracy; 
but the whole crew was far from tranquil- 
lized. The most seriously implicated 
began once more to collect in knots during 
the night. Seditious words were heaid 
through the vessel, and an insolent and 
menacing air assumed by many. Some of 
the petty officers had been sounded by the 
first lieutenant, and found to be true to 
their colors. They were under the impres- 
sion that the vessel was yet far from safe, 
and that an outbreak having for its object 
the release of the prisoners was seriously 
contemplated. 

This alarming state of disaffection, the 
increased number who missed their muster, 
repeated acts of insubordination, together 
with other considerations, induced Captain 
Mackenzie to have a thorough inspection 
of the crew, the immediate arrest of those 
principally susjjected, and, on the thirtieth 
of November, he addressed a letter to all 
the officers on board, excepting the mid- 
shipmen, asking their opinion as to what 
additional measures were necessary to the 
security of the vessel. On receipt of this 
letter, all the officers assembled in the 
wardroom and commenced the examination 
of witnesses. The witnesses were duly 
sworn, the testimony accurately written 
down, and, in addition to the oath, each 
witness signed the evidence which he had 
given, after hearing it read over to him. 

Without interrupticp and without food, 



MUTINY ON BOARD THE BRIG SOMERS. 



295 



the officers continuetl in their occupation a 
whole day, and the unanimous result of 
their deliberations luas, that Spencer, 
Cromwell, and Small should be put to 
death. 

In the justice of this opinion Captain 
Mackenzie at once concurred, and in the 
necessity of carrying its recommendation 
into immediate effect. The petty officers 
were now mustered on the quarter-deck, 
and they were each armed with a cutlass, 
pistol, and cartridge-box, after which the 
captain said to them, 

" Mtj lads ! you are to look at me — to 
obey my orders — and to see my orders 
obeyed ! Go forward I " 

The captain now gave orders that imme- 
diate preparations be made for hanging the 
three principal criminals at the main j'ard- 
arni ; and all hands were called to witness 
the punishment. The after guard and 
idlers of both watches were mustered on 
the quarter-deck at the whip intended for 
Spencer ; the forecastlemen and foretop- 




men at that of Cromwell, to whose corrup- 
tion they had been chiefly exposed ; and 
the maintopmen of both watches at that 
intended for Small, who for a month or 
more had filled the situation of captain of 
the maintop. The officers were stationed 
about the decks, and the petty officers 
similarly distributed, with orders to cut 
down whoever should let go the whip with 
even one hand or failed to haul on it when 
ordered. The ensign and pennant being 



bent on and ready for hoisting, Captain 
Mackenzie put on his full uniform, and 
proceeded to execute the most painfu, 
duty that had ever devolved on an Ameri- 
can commander — that of announcing to 
the criminals their fate. To Spencer he 
said : 

" When yon were about to take my life, 
and to dishonor me as an officer while in 
the execution of my rightful duty, without 
cause of offense to you, on speculation, it 
was your intention to remove me suddenly 
from the world, in the darkness of the 
night, in my sleep, without a moment to 
utter one whisper of affection to my wife 
and children — one prayer for their welfare. 
Your life is now forfeited to your country; 
and the necessities of the case, growing 
out of your corruption of the crew, compel 
me to take it. I will not, however, imi- 
tate your intended example as to the 
manner of claiming the sacrifice. If there 
j-et remains you one feeling true to 
nature, it shall be gratified. If you have 
any word to send to your parents, it shall 
be recorded, and faithfully delivered. Ten 
minutes shall be granted you for this pur- 
pose." 

This intimation entirely overcame him. 
He sank, with tears, upon his knees, and 
said he was not fit to die. Captain Mac- 
kenzie repeated to him his own catechism, 
and begged him at least to let the officer 
set to the men he had corrupted and se- 
duced, the example of dying with decorum. 
This immediately restored him to entire 
self-possession, and, while he was engaged 
in prayer. Captain Mackenzie went and 
made in succession the same communica- 
tion to Cromwell and Small. Cromwell 
fell upon his knees completely unmanned, 
protested his innocence, and invoked the 
name of his wife. Spencer said: "As 
these are the last words I have to say, I 
trust they will be believed: Cromwell is 
innocent!" Though the evidence had 
been conclusive, Captain Mackenzie was 
staggered, and at once consulted Lieu- 
tenant Gansevoort, who said there was not 
a shadow of doubt. He was told to con- 
sult the petty officers; he was condemned 



296 



MUTINY ON BOAED THE BRIG SOMERS. 



by acclamation by them all, as tbe one 
man of whom they had real apprehen- 
sion. Spencer probably wished to save 
Cromwell, in fulfillment of some mutual 
oath ; or, more likely, he hoped he 
might yet get possession of the vessel, 
and carry out the scheme of murder 
and outrage matured between them. 
Small alone, who had been set down 
as the jwltroon of the three, received 
the announcement of his fate with com- 
posure. When asked if he had any 
messages to send, he said, " I have 
nobody to care for me but my poor old 
mother, and I had rather she should 
know how I have died." On Captain 
Mackenzie returning again to Spencer, and 
asking him if he had no messages to send 
to his friends, he answered, " None that 
they would wish to receive." Subse- 
quently he said : 

" Tell them I die, wishing them every 
blessing and happiness. / deserve death 
for this and many other crimes. There 
are few crimes that I have not committed, 
I feel sincerely penitent, and my only fear 
of death is, that my repentance may be 
too late. I have wronged many persons, 
but cliiefiy my parents. This will kill my 
poor mother ! I do not know what would 
have become of me had I succeeded. I 
fear this may injure my father. I will 
tell you frankly what I intended to do, 
had I got home — I should have attempted 
to escape. I had the same project on 
board the John Adams and Potomac. It 
seemed to be a mania with me." 

In reply to Spencer's question whether 
the law would justify the commander in 
taking life under such circumstances, Cap- 
tain Mackenzie assured him that it would; 
that he had consulted all his brother offi- 
cers, his messmates included, except the 
boys, and their opinion had been placed 
before him. He stated that it was just, 
and that he deserved death. He asked 
■what was to be the manner of his death. 
Captain Mackenzie explained it to him. 
He objected to it, and asked to be shot. 
He was told that ao distinction could be 
made between him and those he had cor- 



rupted. He admitted that this also was 
just. He objected to the shortness of the 
time for preparation, and asked for an 
hour. No answer v;as made to this 
request; but he was not hurried, and 
more than the hour which he asked for 
was allowed to elapse. He requested that 
his face might be covered ; this was read- 
ily granted, and he was asked what it 
should be covered with ; he did not care. 
A handkerchief was sought for in his 
locker ; none but a black one could be 
found, and this was brought for the purpose. 

It was now ordered that the other 
criminals should be consulted as to their 
wishes in this particular. They joined 
in the request, and frocks were taken 
from their bags to cover their heads. 
Spencer asked to have his irons removed; 
but this was not granted. He asked 
for a bible and prayer-book ; they were 
brought, and others ordered to be fur- 
nished to his accomplices. He then 
said to Captain Mackenzie, "I am a be- 
liever! Do you think that any repent- 
ance at this late hour can be accepted ? " 
In reply to this, the -captain called to 
his recollection the case of the penitent 
thief who was pardoned upon the cross. 
He then read in the bible, kneeled down, 
and read in the prayer-book. He again 
asked the captain if he thought that 
his repentance could be accepted, the 
time being so short, and he did not know 
if he was really changed. In answer to 
this, he was told that God, who was all- 
merciful as well as all-wise, could not only 
understand the difficulties of the situ- 
ation, but extend to him such a measure of 
mercy as his necessities might require. 
He said, " I beg your forgiveness for what 
I have meditated against you." Captain 
Mackenzie gave him his hand, and assured 
him of his sincere forgjveness. 

More than an hour was occupied in this 
scene. The petty officers had been as- 
signed, according to rank, to conduct the 
several prisoners to the gang-way. At the 
break of the quarter-deck was a narrow 
passage between the trunk and pump-welL 
Spencer and Cromwell met exactly 02 



MUTINY ON BOARD THE BKIG SOMERS. 



297 




either side. The captain directed 
Cromwell to stop, to allow Spen- 
cer to pass first. At this mo- 
ment Spencer himself paused, 
md asked to be allowed to see 
Mr. Wales. He was called, and 
Cromwell now passed on, almost 
^,^4 touching Spencer. When Mr. 
%_^ Wales came up, Spencer ex- 
I2J tended his hand to him and said, 
^^ " Mr. Wales, I eamesthj hope 
yoti ivill forgive me for tamper- 
ing ivith your fidelitij ! " Spen- 
cer was wholly unmoved, Mr. 
Wales almost overcome with emotion while he 
replied, "I do forgive you from the bottom 
of my heart, and I hope that God will forgive 
you also!" ^^ Farewell " exclaimed Spencer; 
and Mr. Wales, weeping, and causing others 
oF"Sij(GLEAbE*HfVko5f Tu±;'vAiu>-Aii»i. to Weep, rospouded ^^ Farewell! 



298 



MUTINY ON BOARD THE BRIG SOMERS. 



Spencer now passed on. At the gang- 
way lie met Small. With the same calm 
manner, but with a nearer approach to 
emotion, he placed himself in front of 
Small, extended his hand, and said, "Small, 
forgive me for leading you into this 
trouble." Small drew back with horror. 
" Xo, by God! Mr. Spenrer, I can't for- 
ffiue you ! '' On a repetition of the re- 
quest, Small exclaimed in a searching 
voice, " All, Mr. Spencer, that is a hard 
thing for you to ask nie ! We shall soon 
be before the face of God, and thou we 
shall know all about it!" Captain Mac- 
kenzie went to Small, urging him to be 
more generous — that this was no time for 
resentment. He relented at once, held 
out his hand to take the still extended 
hand of Mr. Spencer, and said with frank- 
ness and emotion, " I do forgive you, Mr. 
Spencer ! May God Almighty forgive j'ou 
also ! " After some farewell words with 
Captain Mackenzie, he said, turning to 
those wlio held the ship, " Now, brother 
topuuttes, give me a quick and easy death!" 
He was placed on the hammocks forward 
of the gangway, v^ith his face inboard; 
Spencer was similarly placed abaft the 
gangway ; and Cromwell also on the other 
side. 

About this time, Spencer sent for Lieu- 
tenant Gansevoort, and told him that he 
might have heard that his courage had 
been doubted; he wished him to bear tes- 
timony that he died like a brave niaji. He 
then asked the captain, what was to be the 
signal for execution ; the captain said, 
that, being desirous to hoist the colors at 
the. moment of execution, at once to give 
solemnity to the act and to indicate by it 
that the colors of the Somers were fixed to 
the mast-head, it was his intention to beat 
to call as for hoisting the colors, then roll 
off, and at the tlii.'d roll fire a gun. Spen- 
cer asked to be allowed himself to give the 
Tord to fire the gun; this request was 
granted, and the drum and fife were dis- 
missed. He asked if the gun was under 
him, and was told that it was next but 
oiie to him. He begged that no interval 
might elapse between giving the word 



and firing the gun. Capt...n Mackenzie 
asked if they were firing with the lock aiu-" 
wafer, which had always proved quick ant; 
sure, but was told that they had a tube and 
priming, and were prepared to fire with a 
match. Some delay w-ould have ensued, 
to open the arm chest and get out a wafer. 
The captain ordered a supply of live coals 
to be passed up from the gallej', and fresli 
ones continually supplied ; then assured 
Spencer there would be no delay. 

Time still wearing away in this manner, 
Small requested leave to address the crew. 
Spencer, having leave to give the wonl, 
was asked if he would consent to the 
delay. He assented, and Small's face 
being uncovered, he spoke as follows: 
"Shipmates and topmates ! take warning 
by my example. I never was a pirate. I 
never killed a man. It's for saying I 
would do it, that I am about to depart this 
life. See what a word will do ! It wa.s 
going in a Guineaman that brought me to 
this. Beware of a Guineaman." He 
turned to Spencer and said to him, " I am 
now ready to die, Mr. Spencer, are }ou ? " 
Cromwell's last words were, " Tell my wife 
I die an innocent man ; tell Lieutenant 
Morris I die an innocent man!" It had 
been the game of this leading conspirator 
to appear innocent. 

Captain Mackenzie now placed himself 
on a trunk, in a situation from which his 
eye could take in everything,' and waited 
for fome time; but no word came. At 
length, the captain was informed that 
Spencer said he could not give the word — 
that he wished the commander to give the 
word himself. Tiie gun was accordingly 
fired, and the execution took place! The 
three conspirators against their country, 
their flag, their comrades and mankind, 
swung lifeless in the air, from the yard- 
arm ; — a fate richly deserved, at least by 
him who had atrociously declared: "I am 
leagued to get possession of the vessel, 
murder the commander and officers, choose 
from among those of the crew who are 
willing to join me such as will be useful, 
murder the rest, and commence pirating ; 
to attack no vessels that I am not sure to 



MUTmY ON BOARD THE BRIG SOMERS. 



299 



capture ; to destroy every vestige of the 
captured vessels; and to select such of tlie 
female passengers as are suitable, and, 
after using them sufiBciently, to dispose of 
them." 

The crew were now ordered aft, and 
were addressed by Captain Mackenzie, 
from the trunk on which he was standing ; 
after which, the crew were piped down 
from witnessing punishment, and all hand.s 
called to cheer the ship. Captain Mac- 
kenzie himself gave the order — " Stand by 
to give three hearty cheers for the flag of 
our country ! " Never were three heartier 
cheers given. On the following Sunday, 
after the laws for the government of the 
navy had been read, as usual on the first 
Sunday of the month, the ere. .vere again 
impressively addressed by Captain Mac- 
kenzie, and, in conclusion, he told them 
that as they had shown that they could 
give cheei'S for their country, they should 
now give cheers to th«ir God, — ^for they 



would do this when they sang jiraises to 
his name. The colors were now hoisted, 
and, above the American ensign, the only 
banner to which it may give place, — the 
banner of the cross. And now, over the 
vasty deep, there resounded tliat joyous 
song of adoration, the hundredth psalm, 
sung by all the officers and crew. 

On the arrival home, of the Soniers, the 
tragedy was investigated by a court of 
inquiry, consisting of Commodores Stewart, 
Jacob Jones, and Dallas, and Captain 
Mackenzie's course was fully apj^roved. 
A court-martial was also subsequently 
held, at his personal request, of which 
Commodore John Downes was president, 
and the trial, which lasted forty days, 
resulted in his acquittal. One of the 
ablest reviews of this case, was that 
by Mr. J. Fenimore Cooper, in which 
Mackenzie's course was condemned ; but 
the ponular opinion was greatly in his 
favor. 



XXXVII. 

SUDDEN" APPEARANCE OF A GREAT AND FIERY COMET 
IN THE SKIES AT NOONDAY.— 1843. 



It Sweeps Tlirough the Heavens, for Several Weeks, with a Luminous Train 108,000,000 Miles in 
Length. — Almost Grazes the Sun, and, after Whirling Around that Orb with Prodigious Velocity, 
Approaches the Earth with a Fearful Momentum. — Its Mysterious Disappearance in the Unknown 
Realms and Depths of Space — Most Notable of all Comets. — First Visible in the Day-time. — It» 
Conspicuous Aspect. — Strange and Threatening Motion — Its Course Towards the Sun. — Their 
Supposed Contact. — Becomes Red in Passing. — Recedes Straight to the Earth. — Watched with 
Deep Concern. — The Magnetic Needle Agitated — Wide Fears of a Collision. — Its Probable Result. 
— Indian Terror and Prediction. — Triumphs of Astronomy. — Diameter of the Comet's Head. — 
Measurement of its Tail. — Stars Seen Through the Train. — Appearance in the Equator. — Like a 
Stream of Molten Fire. — Beautiful Ocean Reflection. — Double Sweep of the Tail. — Other Comet- 
ary Phenomena. 



*' A pathleaa romet, 

The menace of the unive n,-; 
Htill rnlting on with innate force. 
Without a ephera, without a course." 




USUALLY, the name or word 'comet' is applied to bodies which 
appear in the heavens with a train, or tail, of light ; but it is 
ifT-- now not uncommon to apply the term to those heavenly bodies, 
jgll beyond the limits of the earth's atmosphere, which are nebulous 
1(4^ in their appearance, and with or without a tail. It is, however, 
the class first named, which includes the most wonderful ex- 
amples of this phenomenon in modern times ; and, in connec- 
tion with the splendid visitant of this kind that appeared in 1843, — almost rivaling, as 
it did, the splendor of the sun itself, — some notice will be appropriate of similar bodies 
which, during the last century, have excited wonder and admir.ation. 

Without dwelling iipon the appearance of those comets which antedate the year 
1800, or upon the corruscatious, flickering and vanishing like northern lights, of the 
comet of 1807, some mention may be made of that of 1811, the finest that, up to the 
time of its appearance, had adorned the heavens since the age of Newton. It was 
noted for its intense brilliancy, and was visible for more than three months in succes- 
sion to the naked ej-e, shining with great splendor — being, indeed, a comet of the 
first class, in point of magnitude and luminosity. Its brilliant tail, at its greatest 
elongation, had an extent of one hundred and twenty-three millions of miles, by a 
breadth of fifteen millions ; and thus, supposing the nucleus of the comet to have been 
placed on the sun, and the tail in the plane of the orbits of the planets, it would have 
reached over those of Mercury, Venus, the Earth, and have bordered on that of 
Mars. At its nearest approach to us, the comet was yet distant one hundred and forty- 
one millions of miles, so that even had the tail pointed to the earth, its extremity 



SUDDEN APPEARANCE OF A GREAT COMET. 



301 



would have been eighteen millions of miles 
away from its surface. Its appearance 
was strikingly ornamental to the evening 
sky, and every eye waited and watched, 
intently, to gaze upon the celestial novelty, 
as it grew into distinctness with the de- 
clining day. The elements of the orbit 
of this comet were accurately computed by 
Professors Bowditch, Farrar and Fisher. 

The comet of 1843 is regarded as, per- 
haps, the most marvelous of the present 
age, having been observed in the day-time 
even before it was visible at night, — pass- 
ing very near the sun,^-exhibiting an 
enormous length of tail, — and arousing an 
Interest in the public mind as universal 
and deep as it was unprecedented. It 
startled the world by its sudden appari- 
tion in the spring, in the western 
heavens, like a streak of aurora, streaming 
from the region of the sun, below the 
constellation of Orion. It was at first 
mistaken, by multitudes, for the zodiacal 
light; but its aspects and movements soon 
proved it to be a comet of the very largest 
class. There were, too, some persons who, 
without regarding it, like many of the 
then numerous sect called Millerites, as 
foretokening the speedy destruction of the 
world, still could not gaze at it un- 
troubled by a certain nameless feeling of 
doubt and fear. 

From the graphic narrative of a Euro- 
pean traveling at that date in the wilds 
of America, it appears that the Indians 
around him viewed the comet of 1843 as 
the precursor of pestilence and famine. 
One of his companions, Tamanua, a young 
Wapisiana, broke the silence with which 
the whole party for some time stared at 
the starry train of the ball of fire, with 
the exclamation, " This is the Spirit of 
the Stars, the dreadful Capishi — famine 
and pestilence aivait tis ! " The others 
immediately burst into a torrent of vocif- 
eration, lamenting the appearance of the 
dreadful Capishi, and raising, with violent 
gesticulations, their arms towards the 
comet. This comet was visible in Bo- 
logna, Italy, at noon, two diameters of the 
sun's disc east of the sun, while passing 



its perihelion, being then only ninety-six 
thousand miles distant from that lumin- 
ary, and its speed three hundred and sixty 
six miles per second ; so that, in twelve 
minutes, it must have^passed over a space 
equal to the distance between the earth 
and the moon. When its distance from 
the sun allowed it to be visible after sun- 
set, it presented an appearance of extraor- 
dinary magnificence. 

But the appearance of this strange 
body, as observed at different points, by 
various scientific observers, has been made 
a portion of the permanent scientific his- 
tory of our country, by Professor Loomis, 
of Yale college, to whose learned investi- 
gations in this department of human 
knowledge, more than one generation is 
largely indebted. In his admirable paper 
on this magnificent comet, he states that 
it was seen in New England as early as 
half-past seven in the morning, and con- 
tinued till after three in the afternoon, 
when the sky became considerably ob- 
scured by clouds and haziness. The 
appearance, at first, was that of a lumin- 
ous globular body with a short train — the 
whole taken together being found by 
measurement about one degree in length. 
The head of the comet, as observed by the 
naked eye, appeared circular ; its light, at 
that time, equal to that of the moon at 
midnight in a clear sky ; and its apparent 
size about one-eighth the area of the full 
moon. Some observers compared it to a 
small cloud st/ongly illuminated by the 
sun. The train was of a paler light, 
gradually diverging from the nucleus, and 
melting away into the brilliant sky. An 
observer at Woodstock, Vt, viewed the 
comet through a common three-feet tele- 
scope, and found that it presented a dis- 
tinct and most beautiful appearance, ex- 
hibiting a very white and bright nucleus, 
and showing a tail which divided near the 
nucleus into two separate branches. 

At Portland, Me., Captain Clark meas- 
ured the distance of the nucleus from tha 
sun, the only measurement, with one ex- 
ception, known to have been made in any 
part of the globe before the third of 



302 



SUDDEN APPEARANCE OF A GRKAT COMET. 



Marcli. He found that tlie distance of 
the sun's farthest limb from the nearest 
limb of the comet's nucleus, was four de- 
grees, six minutes, fifteen seconds. At 
Conception, in South America, Captain 
Ray saw the comet on the twenty-seventh 
of February, east of the sun, distant about 
one-sixth of his diameter. The comet was 
seen at Pernambuco, Brazil, and in Van 
Dieman's Land, on the first of Marcli. 
On the second, it was seen in great bril- 
liancy at St. Thomas, and by various 
navigators in the equatorial regions. On 
the evening of the third, it was noticed at 
Key West, and excited much attention. 
On the fourth, it was seen in the latitude 
of New York by a few, and, on the even- 
ing of the fifth, it was noticed very gen- 
erally. 

From this date, until about the close of 
the month, it jJi'esented a most mtif/nip'ccnt 
spectacle every clear evening, in the ab- 
sence of the moon. As seen near the 
equator, the tail had a darkish line from 
its head through the center to the end. 
It was occasionally brilliant enough to 
throw a strong light upon the sea. The 
greatest length of tail, as seen there, was 
about the fifth of March, sixty-nine de- 
grees as measured with the sextant, and 
it was observed to have considerable curv- 
ature. One observer described it as an 
elongated birch-rod, slightly curved, and 
having a breadth of one degree. At the 
Cape of Good Hope, March third, it was 
described as a doubla tail, about twenty- 
five degrees in length, the two streamers 
making with each other an angle of about 
a quarter of a degree, and proceeding from 
the head in perfectly straight lines. In 
the United States, the greatest length of 
tail observed was about fifty degrees. 
Professor Tuttle gives it, as seen through 
the Cambridge telescope, at one hundred 
and eighty millions of miles. The curva- 
ture of the tail upward, though very 
noticeable, scarcely exceeded two degrees. 
The first observation of the nucleus, with 
the exception of the noonday observations, 
is believed to have been made at the Cape 
of Good Hope, on the third of March, 



after which it was observed regularly 
until its disappearance. At Trevandrun, 
in India, it was observed from the sixth ; 
at Cambridge, Mass., it was observed on 
the ninth, and at numerous places on the 
eleventh. The first European observation 
of the nucleus was made on the seven- 
teenth, at Rome and Naples. 

The comet nowhere continued visible 
many days in succession. It was seldom 
seen in Europe after the first of April. 
The last observation at Naples was on the 
seventh. On the fifteenth, at Berlin, 
Professor Encke thought he caught a 
faint glimpse of the comet, but it could 
not be found again on the subsequent 
evening. At Washington, D. C, the 
comet was observed on the morning of 
March sixth. Mr. Maury says concerning 
it, that his attention was called to a para- 
graph in the newsjsapers of that date, 
Monday, stating that a comet loas visible 
near the sun at mid-day ivith the naked 
eye! The sky was clear; but not being 
able to discover anything with the unas- 
sisted eye, recourse was had to a telescope, 
though with no better result. About 
sunset in the evening, the examination 
was renewed, but still to no purpose. The 
last faint streak of day gilded the west, 
beautiful and delicate fleeces of cloud cur- 
tained the bed of the sun, the upper sky 
was studded with stars, and all hopes of 
seeing the comet that evening had van- 
ished. Soon after the time for retiring, 
however, the comet was observed in the 
west,— a phenomenon sublime and beauti- 
ful. The needle was greatly agitated; 
and a strongly marked pencil of light was 
streaming up from the path of the sun in 
an oblique direction to the southward and 
eastward ; its edges were parallel. Stars 
could be seen twinkling through it, and no 
doubt was at first entertained, that this 
was the tail of the comet. Direction was 
given to search the eastern sky with the 
telescope in the morning, from early dawn 
and before, till sunrise ; but nothing 
strange or uncommon was noticed. Tues- 
day was a beautiful day. The sun was 
clear, gilding, as it sunk below the hills, 



SUDDEX APPEAEANCE OF A GREAT COMET. 



303 



a narrow streak of cloud, seen through the 
tree-tops beyond the Potomac. The tail 
hud appeared of great length for the first 
time the evening before; and the observ- 
ers expected, therefore, to find a much 
greater length to it in the evening follow- 
ing. It was a moment of intense inter- 
est when the first stars began to appear. 
The last raj-s of the sua still glittered in 
the horizon; and at this moment, a well 
defined pencil of hairy light was seen 
l^ointing towards the sun.. Soon after six 
o'clock it grew more distinct, and then 
gradually faded away. 

Professor Loomis states that the most 
complete series of observations on this 
comet of 1843, in this country, were made 
by Messrs. Walker and Kendall of Phila- 
delpliia, where the comet was followed 
until April tenth. A great many astron- 



perihelion was prodigious. This was such 
as, if continued, would have carried it 
round the sun in two hours and a half ; 
in fact, it did go more than half round the 
sun in this time. In one day — that is, 
from twelve hours before, to twelve hours 
after jierihelion passage,— it made two 
hundi'ed and ninety-one degrees of anom- 
.ily ; in other words, it made more than 
three-quarters of its circuit round the sun. 
The head of this comet was exceedingly 
small in comparison with its tail. AVhen 
first discovered, many were unwilling to 
believe it a comet, because it had no head. 
The head was jirobably nowhere seen bj 
the naked eye after the first days of March. 
At the close of March, the head was so 
faint as to render observations somewhat 
difficidt even with a good telesco])e, while 
the tail might still be followed by the 




VIEW OF THE GREAT COMET WHEN NEAREST THE EARTH. 



omers, however, comjiuted the comet's 
orbit, and obtained most extraordinary 
results The comet receded from the sun 
almost in a straight line, so that it required 
careful observations to determine in which 
direction the comet jiassed I'ouud the sun, 
and some at first obtained a direct orbit, 
when it should have been retrograde. The 
perihelion distance — that is, the least dis- 
tance from the sun, — was extremely small, 
very little exceeding the sun's radius. 
Some obtained a smaller quantity than 
this, but such a supposition seems to in- 
volve an impossibility. It is nevertheless 
certain, that the comet almost grazed the 
sun; perhaps some portion of its nebu- 
losity may have come into direct collision 
with it ! 

The velocity with which the comet 
■whirled round the sun at the instant of 



naked eye about thirty degrees. Bessel 
remarked that this comet seemed to have 
exhausted its head in the manufacture of 
its tail. It is not, however, to be hence 
inferred, that the tail was really brighter 
than the head, onlj^ more conspicuous from 
its greater size. A large object, though 
faint, is much more noticeable than a 
small one of intenser light. 

The nearest approach of the comet's 
head to the earth was about eighty mil- 
lions of miles. The absolute diameter of 
the nebulosity surrounding the head was 
about thirty-six thousand miles. The 
length of the tail was prodigious ; on the 
twenty-eighth of February, it was thirty- 
five millions of miles, and its greatest 
visible length was one hundred and eight 
millions, namely, on the twenty-first of 
Alarch. Stars were easily distinguishable 



304 


SUDDEN APPEARANCE OF A GREAT COMET. 




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SUDDEN APPEAEA^^CE OF A GREAT COMET. 



305 



through the lumiiijus ttai:i. The visible 
portion of the tail attaiued its greatest 
length early in March, remained nearly 
stationary for some time, and during the 
first week in April suddenly disappeared, 
from increased distance, without any great 
<liminntiou of length. The tail was 
turned nearly toward the earth on the 
iiight o'l Fel)ruar}' twenty-seventh, in such 
a direction, that had it reached the earth's 
orbit, it would have passed fifteen mil- 
lions of miles south of us. 

In regard to the extraordinary bril- 
iiancy of this comet, on the twentj'-eighth 
<jf T^'ebruary, it was the of)inion of Profes- 
sor Loomis — and no one's opinion could 
iiave greater authority or weight than 
his, — that this was due to the comet's 
proximity to the sun. The day before, 
it had almost grased the sun's disc. The 
heat it received, according to the computa- 
tions of Sir John Herschel, must have 
been forty-seven thousand times that re- 
ceived \)y the earth from a vertical sun ! 
The rays of the sun united in the focus 
of a lens thirty-two inches in diameter, 
and six feet eight inches focal length, have 
melted carnelian, agate and rock crystal. 
The heat to which the comet was sub- 
jected must have exceeded by twenty-five 
times that in the focus of such a lens. 
Such a temperature would have converted 
into vapor almost every substance on the 
earth's surface ; and if anything retained 
the solid form, it would be in a state of 
intense ignition. The comet on the 
twenty-eighth of February was red hot, 
and, for some days after its i)erihelion, it 
vi'tained a j)ecxdiur fiery appedranre. In 
the equatorial regions, the tail is described 
as resembling a stream of fire from a far- 
iiiire. 

Such are some of the principal facts 
concerning this most wonderful comet of 
modern times, according to the investiga- 
tions made by Loomis, — also by Bond, 
Walker, Mitchell, Joslin, Hitchcock, and 
others, and which is significantly and de- 
servedly called " the Great Comet." 

J n 1847, another remarkable comet, 
visible to the naked eye, made its appear- 
20 



ance in the constellation Andromeda. In 
the early part of February, it shone as a 
star of the fourth magnitude, with a tail 
extending about four degrees from the 
nucleus. The distance of the comet from 
the sun's surface, on the evening of March 
thirtieth, was only about three and a half 
millions of miles. The cometic nebulosity 
was about sixty-five thousand miles in 
diameter, and that of the more condensed 
central part, eight thousand miles. The 
length of tail was far less than than of tka 
comet of 1843. Of this comet, a full page 
plate illustrates this article, showing, in a 
peculiar manner, the supernal splendor 
characterizing this mysterious order of the 
heavenly bodies. 

The comet of 1S53 was clearly visible 
to the naked eye, and had a well de- 
fined nucleus and tail. On investigation, 
astronomers failed to identify this comet 
with any previous one. Its brilliant 
nucleus and long train made it very con- 
spicuous, — indeed, one of the largest and 
most beautiful on record. The actual 
diameter of the bright nucleus was eight 
thousand miles, or about equal to that of 
the earth. Its nearest distance to the 
earth at any one time was sixty-eight 
millions of miles. 

In September, 1858, Donati's celebrated 
comet made its appearance, and was for 
weeks a wonder in the skies, at which the 
whole nation gazed with deep and intense 
interest. The great astronomers, Loomis, 
Peirce, George P. Bond, "William C. Bond, 
Tuttle, Norton, Hubbard, Safford, and 
Gould, made learned observations of the 
celestial visitor. The nucleus was very 
brilliant, the tail prodigious. A star of 
the first magnitude might have rivaled 
the illumination of this comet, but noth- 
ing less was worthy a comparison. The 
tail had a curve like a scimitar; but its 
end was shadowy, faint, tremulous, and 
uncertain. The view from twilight until 
deep dark, was magnificent. On the 
twentieth of October, the first of a series 
of extraordinary phenomena manifested 
itself in the region contiguous to the nu- 
cleus. A crescent-shajied outline, obscure 



306 



SUDDEN APPEARANCE OF A GREAT COMET. 



and very narrow, was interspersed, like a 
screen, between the nucleus and the sun ; 
within this, instead of a softly-blended 
nebulous light, indicative of an undis- 
turbed condition of equilibrium, the fiery 
mass was in a state of apparent commo- 
tion, as though upheaved by the action of 
violent internal forces. On the twenty- 
third, two dark outlines were traced more 
than half way round the nucleus, and on 
the next evening still another. Other 
envelopes were subsequently formed, their 
motion of projection from the nucleus 
being evident from night to night. The 
rapiditj' of their formation, and the enor- 
mous extent to which they were ultimately 
expanded, constituted a remarkable feat- 
ure, difficult of explanation. The comet 




TELESCOPIC VIEW OF THE COMET. 

was nearest to the sun — fifty-five millions 
of miles, — September thirtieth ; nearest 
to the earth — fifty-two millions of miles, 
— October twelfth. Its tail was fifty-one 
millions of miles in length. 

So sudden was the apparition of the 
splendid comet of 1861, that though observ- 
ations made at Harvard college observa- 
tory, June twenty-ninth, failed to detect it, 
it was, on the succeeding evening, the most 
conspicuous object in the western sky. On 



the second of July, after twilight, the 
head, to the naked ej'e, appeared much 
brighter than a star of the first magni- 
tude, — about the same in brightness as 
the great comet of 1858. The aspect of 
the tail was that of a narrow, straight 
ray, projected to a distance of one hun- 
dred and six degrees from the nucleus, 
being easily distinguishable quite up to 
the borders of the milky way. The 
boundaries, for the most part, were well 
defined, and easily traced among the 
stars. Further observations on the tail 
made it evident that a diffuse, dim light, 
with very uncertain outlines, apparently 
composed of hazy filaments, swept off in 
a strong curve towards the stars in the 
tail of Ursa Major. This was evidently 
a broad, curved tail, intersected on its 
curved side at the distance of a few de- 
grees from the nucleus or head, by the 
long straight raj', which, at the first 
glance, from its greatly superior bright- 
ness, seemed alone to constitute the tail. 
The whole issue of nebulous matter from 
the nucleus far into the tail was curiously 
grooved and striated. On the second of 
July, portions of three luminous en- 
velopes were visible. They rapidly faded, 
or were lost in the surrounding haze, an i 
their places were filled by new ones. The 
investigations of Messrs. Safford, Hall, 
and Tuttle, show the diameter of the head 
of this comet to have been variously esti- 
mated at from one hundred and fifty to 
three or four hundred miles. On the 
second of Jul}', the breadth of the head 
of the nucleus was one hundred and fifty- 
six thousand miles, and the length of tlje 
tail about fifteen millions of miles. 



XXXVIII. 
EXPECTED DESTRUCTION OF THE WOELD.— 1843. 



Miller'9 Exciting Prerliction of the Second Advent of Clirist. — The Speedy Fulfillment of the Latter- 
Day Bible Prophecies Boldly Declared — Zealous Promulgation of His Views — Scores of Thousands 
of Converts. — Public Feeling Intensely Wrought Upon. — Preparations by Many for the Coming 
Event. — The Passing of the Time. — Miller's Apology and Defense. — His Deism in Early Life. — 
Studies History and Scripture. — Is Struck by the Prophecies. — Reads Daniel and John Critically. — 
Calculates Their Time. — " About 1843 " the Consummation. — Basis of these Conclusions. — Reluc- 
tantly Begins to Lecture — Interesting Incident. — His Labors and Enthusiasm. — Three Thousand Lec- 
tures in Ten Years. — Secret of His Great Success — Approach of the Final Day — Cessation of Secular 
Pursuits. — Encamping in the Fields, in Grave-yards and on Roofs — Some Curious Extravagances. 
— Rebuked by Miller. — Repeated Disappointments. — Misinterpretation of Texts. — Miller, as a Man 
and Preacher. — His Calm and Happy Death. 



" I confeeB my error, and acknowledee my dJBappointment; yet I Btill believe that the day of the Lord is near, c~en at the loot."— Mil- 
ler's Final Words to his Followers. 




EW men hav3 attainid a wider 
name or more rapid and remark- 
able note, in the American relig- 
ious world, than Rev. William 
Miller, " zixe prophet," — as he was 
familiarly called, — founder of the 
sect called by his name, and also 
known as " Second Adventists." 
A sketch of the public career of 
Mr. Miller, and of the biblical 
grounds upon which he based his 
earnest and confident prediction of 
the end of the world about the 
year 1843, tof,'ether with some 
account of the extraordinary 
scenes which characterized that 
exciting period, — participated in 
THE oKEAT DAY PEoPHEsiED BY THE SECOND ADVENTISTS. by teus of thousands of ardeut and 
enthusiastic believers in Mr. Miller's views, — will be found in the following pages. 

Mr. Miller was born in Pittsfield, Mass., in 1782, and, when he was four years of age, 
his father removed to Low Hampton, in the state of New York. At the age of twenty- 
two, he settled in Poultney, Vt., and was a deputy-sheriff for that county. Taking 



308 



EXPECTED DESTEUCTIOX OF THE WOELD. 



a military turn, lie received from Governor 
Galusha a lieutenant's commission, and, on 
the breaking out of the second war with 
England, he was made captain, by Presi- 
ident Madison. He remained in the 
United States army until the declaration 
of peace, taking a courageous part in the 
action at Plattsburg, where the British 
were so sorely worsted. After the close of 
the war, he returned to his home, where 
for several years he held the office of a jus- 
tice of the peace. 

In the community where he lived, Mr. 
Miller was regarded with much esteem, as 
a benevolent, intelligent man, and a kind 
neighbor. He had only a common school 
education, but was a jjerson of more than 
ordinary talent. In his religious views, 
Mr. Miller was an avowed deist, until 
about his thirty-fourth j'ear, when his 
views and feelings experienced such a 
change as led him to imite with the Bajs- 
tist church. For many years he was a 
most assiduous student of history and the 
scriptures, in the study of which he be- 
came impressed with the conviction that 
the fifth monarchy predicted by Daniel to 
be given to the people of the saints of the 
Most High, under the whole heaven, for 
an everlasting possession, — as represented 
in the seventh chapter of that prophecy — 
was about to be consummated. 

His views — though he at no time claimed 
to be, in any sense, a j^rophel, — were sub- 
stantially as follows: That Jesus Christ 
will appear a second time in 1843, in the 
clouds of heaven ; that he would then raise 
the righteous dead, and judge them 
together with the righteous living, who 
would be caught up to meet him in the 
air; that he would purify the earth with 
fire, causing the wicked and all their 
works to be consumed in the general con- 
flagration, and would shut up their souls 
in the place prepared for the devil and his 
angels; that the saints would live and 
reign with Christ, on the new earth, a thou- 
sand years ; that then Satan and the 
wicked spirits would lie let loose, and the 
wicked dead be raiseil — this being the 
second resurrection, — and, being judged, 



should make war upon the saints, be 
defeated, and cast down to hell forever. 

It becoming known that he entertained 
these views, he was importuned by many 
to write out his opinions, and afterwards 
to go before the public with them. After 
declining so to do for a long time, he at 
length comj)lied, bj' writing a series of 
articles, in 1831, in the Vermont Tele- 
graph. In 1832, he sent forth a synopsis 
of his views in a pamphlet, and subse- 
cjuently, in obedience to conscientious con- 
victions of dutj-, he commenced as a jiublic 
lecturer on prophecy. 

He thus describes his reluctance to 
appear in public, and the occasion of his 
first attempt : "One Saturday, after break- 
fast, in the summer of 1833, I sat down at 
my desk to examine some point, and as I 
arose to go out to work, it came home to 
me with more force than ever, ' Go and tell 
it to the world.' The imjn-ession was so 
sudden, and came with such force, that I 
settled down into my chair, saying, ' I 
can't go. Lord.' ' Whv not ? ' seemed to 
be the response ; and then all my excuses 
came up, mj' want of ability, etc. ; but my 
distress became so great, I entered into a 
solemn covenant with God, that, if he 
would open the w-ay, I would go and per- 
form my duty to the world. ' What do 
you mean by opening the way?' seemed 
to come to me. ' Why,' said I, ' if I should 
have an invitation to speak publicly in 
any place, I will go and tell them what I 
find in the Bible about the Lord's coming.' 
Instantly' all my burden was gone, and I 
rejoiced that I should not probably be thus 
called upon, for I had never had such an 
invitation, ^ly trials were not known, 
and I had but little expectation of being 
invited to any field of labor. In about 
half an hour from this time, before I had 
left the room, a son of Mr. Guilford, of 
Dresden, about sixteen miles from my res- 
idence, came in and said that his father 
had sent for me, and wished me to go 
home with him. Supposing that he wished 
to see me on some business, I asked him 
what he wanted. He replied, that there 
was to be no preaching in their church the 



EXPECTED DESTEUCTIOX OF THE M'OELD. 



3uy 



next day, and his father -wished to have 
me come and talk to the jjeople on the 
subject of the Lord's coming. I was 
immediately angry with mj-self for having 
made the covenant I had; I rebelled at 
once against the Lord, and determined 
not to go. I left the boy, without giving 
him any answer, and retired in great dis- 
tress to a grove near by. There I strug- 
gled with the Lord for about an hour, 
endeavoring to release myself from the 
covenant I had made with him, but could 
get no relief. It was impressed iipon my 



at the close of a lecturing tour in the spring 
of 1843, Mr. Miller remarks in his journal, 
that, up to that time, he had given three 
thousand two hundred lectures ! 

An interesting reminiscence of Mr. 
Miller's early career, is related by his 
biographer as having occurred soon after 
the publication of his views in pamphlet 
form. As he was passing down the 
Hudson river, in a steam-boat, a company 
of men standing near him were conversing 
respecting the wonderful imjirovements of 
the day. One of them remarked, that it 







SYMBOLICAL ILLXJSTRATIOIJS OF THE SECOXD AD\'EXT PROPHECIES. 



conscience, ' Will you make a covenant 
with God, and break it so soon ? ' and the 
exceeding sinfulness of thus doing over- 
whelmed me. I finally submitted ; and 
promised the Lord that if he would sustain 
me, I would go, trusting in him to give 
me grace and ability to perform all he 
should require of me. I returned to the 
house, and found the boy still waiting; he 
remained till after dinner, and I returned 
with him to Dresden." Such was the be- 
ginning. And yet, ten years after, namely. 



was impossible for things to progress, for 
thirty years to come, in the same ratio that 
they had done; "for," said he, "man will 
attain to something more than human." 
Mr. Miller replied to him, that it reminded 
him of Dan. 12: 4, — 'Many shall run to 
and fro, and knowledge shall be increased.' 
A pause ensuing, IMr. Miller continued, 
and observed that the improvements of the 
present day were just what we should 
expect at this time, in the fulfillment of 
Daniel's prophecy. He then commenced 



310 



EXPECtED DESTKUCTION OF THE WOELD. 



with the eleventh chapter of Daniel, and, 
comparing the prophecy with the history, 
showed its fulfillment — all listening with 
close attention. He then remarked, that 
he had not intended trespassing so long 
on their patience, and, leaving them, 
walked to the other end of the boat. The 
entire company followed, and wished to 
hear more on the subject. He then took 
up the second, seventh, eiglrh and ninth 
chapters of Daniel. His hearers wished 
to know if he had ever written on the sub- 
ject. He told them he had jjublished the 
above pamphlet, and distributed among 
them what copies he had with him. Tliis 
was one of his first audiences, and some 
gentlemen of high standing listened to his 
remarks. 

In 1836, a volume of Mr. Miller's lec- 
tures was published and widely circulated. 
Early in 1838, a copy of these lectures fell 
into the hands of Rev. J. Litch, a talented 
minister of the Methodist Ejiiscopal 
church, who soon after published a pam- 
phlet entitled the Midnight Cry, proclaim- 
ing the second coming of Christ about the 
year 1843. He also commenced preaching 
the same doctrine, with great success, and 
published several works of marked ability. 
Another prominent receiver of the doctrine 
was E.ev. J. V. Himes, an accomplished 
preacher of the Christian Connection, and 
whose writings on the newly promulgated 
views evinced much jiower of reasoning 
and scholarly research. 

The volume of lectures by Mr. Miller 
had a large circulation, as did also the 
publication called the Signs of the Times. 
In October, 1840, the first general confer- 
ence of Second Advent believers was held 
in Chardon street chapel, Boston. During 
the winter of 1841 — 1842, conferences 
were numerous throughout New England, 
and, in 1842, the standard was raised in 
the citj' of New York, by a series of meet- 
ings in Apollo hall, Broadway, held by 
Messrs. Miller and Himes. During the 
summer of that year, 2)ublic excitement 
greatly increased, and multitudes of preach- 
ers and speakers were in the field. Finally, 
a large tent was constructed, capable of 



holding four thousand persons, in which 
meetings were held at Concord, Albanj', 
Springfield, Newark, and other places. 
The work spread with a power unparal- 
leled in the history of religious move- 
ments ; and this, notwithstanding the ridi- 
cule and other weapons of opposition 
wielded against it by almost all the lead- 
ing religious and secular journalists in the 
principal cities, whose influence was very 
great. Perhaps the simple secret of Mr. 
Miller's wonderful success, was his bring- 
ing prominentlj' forward a somewhat neg- 
lected but vividly imjiortant truth. 

The number of believers had now 
reached scores of thousands. The basis of 
their expectation relative to the speedy 
dissolution of the world was, that, accord- 
ing to the results of chronological research, 
it appeared that the captivit}' of Mauasseh, 
the commencement of the " seven times," 
or 2520 years of Leviticus xxvi., vs'as 
B. C. 677, also the captivity of Jehoia- 
kim, the commencement of the Great 
Jubilee, or 2450 years, was B. C. 607 ; 
also the decree to rebuild Jerusalem in the 
seventh of Artaxerxes, the commencement 
of the seventy'' weeks and 2300 days of 
Daniel viii. and ix., was given B. C. 
457 ; and also the taking away of pagan- 
ism in Rome, the commencement of the 
1335 days of Daniel xii. Reckoning from 
these several dates, it was believed that the 
respective periods could extend only to 
about the Jewish j-ear 1843. 

Thus, all the calculations of prophetic 
time were understood hy the Second Ad- 
ventists to end in 1843. But what par- 
ticular time, in that year, was a matter of 
uncertainty. Some supposed one day or 
season, some another. It was Mr. Miller's 
opinion, that the seventj' weeks ended 
with the crucifixion, in A. D. 33 ; conse- 
quently, that the whole time would end 
with its anniversarjf, in 1843. Still, he was 
not satisfied as to the exactness of the cal- 
culation, and hence, from the outset, 
expressed himself, "about 1843;" indeed, 
in the year 1839, he remarked that he was 
not jMsitive that the event would trans- 
pire in the spring of 1843 — he should 



EXPECTED DESTRUCTION OF THE WOELD. 



311 



claim the whole of the Jewish year, until 
March 21, 1844. 

But, iu opposition to the views thus held 
by Mr. Miller and his able co-laborers, 
Himes, Litch, and other commentators, a 
host of learned writers appeared, including 
representatives of all the Christian denom- 
inations — though even among these, there 
was no slight diversity of opinion as to the 
scope and meaning of the prophecies, and, 
in respect to the correctness of some of the 
points held by Mr. Miller, no objections 
were advanced. The usual strain of argu- 
ment used by the opponents of Mr. Mil- 
ler's rendering of the scriptures was as 
follows : — That the Lord cannot come until 
after the millennium, during which the 
whole world is to be righteous, and the 
lion eat straw like the ox, etc. ; that the 
Jews must be brought in, and restored to 
Palestine, before that day comes ; that it 
is to come as a thief in the night — sudden, 
unanticipated, unlooked for ; that the 
world and the human race being as yet in 
their infancy', so far as moral and material 
development is concerned, it could not be 
reasonably expected that the Lord would 
come to destroy the world. 

But the great opposing argument 
brought to bear against the new views, 
was, that the vision in the eighth chapter 
of Daniel, has nothing to do with the 
coming of Christ, ,or setting up of God's 
everlasting kingdom ; that Antiochus 
Epiphanes, a Syrian king, is the hero 
of Daniel's vision, in the eighth chapter, 
and that the 2300 days are but half days, 
amounting to 1150 literal days, all of 
which were literally fulfilled by Antiochus, 
— his persecution of the Jews, and dese- 
cration of the temple, about one hundred 
and sixty years B. C. 

The earliest date fixed upon by any of 
the Adventists as a probable time for the 
Lord's coming (as stated by Mr. Litch, 
one of the ablest and most reliable author- 
ities), was February tenth, forty-five years 
from the time the French army took Rome, 
in 1798. The next point, and the one 
which was thought the more probable, was 
February fifteenth, the anniversary of the 



abolition of the papal government, and the 
erection of the Roman Republic. Viewing 
this to be the termination of the 1290 
days of Daniel xii. 11, they believed 
fortj'-five j-ears more would terminate the 
1335 days of verse 12. Accordingly, 
expectation with many was on tiptoe, fully 
believing that the great day of the Lord 
would then break upon the world. But 
both those periods came and passed with 
no unusual occurrence. At this result, "' 
much thoughtless ridicule was indulged in 
by some of the newspaper press, and exag- 
gerated accounts given of the believers in 
the doctrine waiting in their white ascen- 
sion robes to be caught up in the air, or 
going to the tops of the houses, or into the 
grave-yards, to watch. Very few, however, 
were so much shaken by their disappoint- 
ment in the passing of the time, as to go 
back and give up the doctrine. Their 
confidence, as well as their religious sin- 
cerity, was beyond suspicion. 

The fifteenth of February passed, the 
next epoch which presented itself as a 
leading point of time, was the Passover, 
the season of the year when the crucifix- 
ion took place. This was looked upon by 
manj^ as being a strongly marked era, on 
account of its being tlie occasion when 
God delivered his people from Egypt, four 
hundred and thirtj' years from Abraham's 
sojourn — and, because on tliat feast the 
crucifixion took place. This latter event, 
according to the belief of many, ended the 
seventy weeks of Daniel ix. 24. Hence, 
they argued, the 2300 days would termi- 
nate when the same feast arrived in 1843, 
and the Savior would come. The four- 
teenth of April, therefore, was a point of 
time anticipated with the deepest solici- 
tude by many. They had the fullest con- 
fidence that it would not pass witliout 
bringing the expected crisis. Others, 
again, looked forward to the season of the 
Ascension, or Feast of Pentecost, as being 
the most likely time for the advent. But 
disappointment attended these, as it had 
previous, expectations. Still, the zeal of 
the disciples did not fail them ; and, at the 
east, west, and south, the same enthusiasm 



312 



EXPECTED DESTEUCTION OF THE WORLD. 



was iiKiuifested bj' tlie promulgators of the 
doctrine that " the end of all things is at 
hand." 

As already stated, Mr. Miller's expecta- 
tions as to the time of the fulfillmeut of 
the prophetic periods, extended to the 
close of the Jewish year 1843, which would 
be March twenty-first, 1844 ; and, on fur- 
ther reflection, gave considerable weight 
to the consideration that the tenth day of 
the seventh month of the current Jewish 
year, which, following the reckoning of the 
Caraite Jews, fell on the twenty-second of 
October, was the jarobable termination of 
several proplietic periods, and, therefore, 
would very likely usher in the great and 
last day. Thus it was, that, on the sixth 
of October, he wrote: "If Christ does not 
come within twentij or twenty-jive days, I 
shall feel twice the disajjpointmoit I did 
ill the spring." With great unanimity, as 
well as honestly and heartil3', was this 
view accepted by his followers. Indeed, 
the feeling was everywhere intense, among 
them. For some days preceding the time 
designated, their secular business was, for 
the most part, suspended ; and those who 
looked for the advent, gave themselves to 
the work of preparation for that event, as 
they would for death, were they on a bed 
of sickness. 

In regard to the extravagances charac- 
terizing this movement, the published 
accounts are declared by the friends of 
Mr. Miller to have been, for the most part, 
gross misstatements, and that hundreds of 
reports relating to excesses, had no found- 
ation in fact. Even so generally fair and 
discriminating a writer as Sir Charles 
Lyell, who was traveling in America 
while the advent excitement was at its 
height, states that several houses were 
pointed out to him, between Plymouth 
(Massachusetts) and Boston, the owners 
of which had been reduced from ease to 
poverty by their credulity, having sold 
their all toward building the Tabernacle, 
in which they were to jjray incessantly for 
six weeks previous to their ascension. 
Among other stories, also, industriously 
circuiaced, was that of a young girl who, 



having no money, was induced to sell her 
necklace, which had been presented her 
by her betrothed. The jeweler, seeing 
that she was much affected at parting with 
her treasure, and discovering the circum- 
stances and object of the sale, showed her 
some silver forks and spoons, on which he 
was about to engrave the initials of the 
very minister whose dupe she was, and 
those of the lady he vi'as about to marry o:i 
a fixed day after the fated twenty-second 
of October. 

While traveling in New Hampshire, 
Lyell states that he was told by a farmer 
in one of the country villages, that, in the 
course of the preceding autumn, many of 
his neighbors would neither reap their 
harvest of corn and {potatoes, nor let others 
take in the crop, saying it was tempting 
Providence to store np grain for a season 
that could never arrive, the great catas- 
trophe being so near at hand. He adds, 
that in several townships in this and the 
adjoining states, the local officers, or se- 
lectmen, interfered, harvesting the crops 
at the public expense, and requiring the 
owners, after the twenty-third of October, 
to repay them for the outlay. So bitter 
was the opposition in some places, that 
offensive missiles were thrown at the pub- 
lic speakers, and their names coupled with 
those of such impostors as Matthias, Cal- 
laway, Folger, Orr, etc. 

That irregularities of one kind and an- 
other attended a religious movement so 
wide-spread, intense and enthusiastic, as 
this, is not to be wondered at ; but it is 
doubtless true that the majority of the 
incidents thus circulated were the easy 
inventions of opponents. The most nota- 
able incident was that which occurred in 
Philadelphia. In opposition to the earnest 
expostulations of Mr. Litch and other 
judicious and influential persons, a com- 
pany of about one hundred and fifty, re- 
sponding to the pretended " vision " of one 
Georgas, on the twentj'-first of October 
went out on the Darby street road, about 
four miles from Market street bridge, and 
encamped in a field under two large tents, 
provided with all needed comforts. The 



EXPECTED DESTEUCTIOX OF THE WORLD. 



313 



nest morning, their faith in the vision 
having failed, all but about a dozen re- 
turned to the city; a few daj^s later, the 
others returned. This act met the em- 
phatic disapproval of Jlr. Miller, and of 
the Adventists generally. 

This day, too, — the only spccijic day 
which was regarded by the more intelligent 
Adventists with an}' positiveness, — also 
passed, peaceful and quiet, as other days ; 
as, likewise, did the time in September, 
184:7, which some fixed upon, on the ground 
that chronologers differed three or four 
years in the dates of this world's his'or}'. 
In reviewing these facts and results oi the 
past, Mr. Miller wrote : " Were I to live 
my life over again, with the same evid'^nce 
that I then had, to be honest with God 
and man I should have to do as I have 
done. I confess my error, and acknosvl- 
edge inu disappointment ; j'et I still be- 
lieve that the day of the Lord is near, 
even at the door " 

The speedy coming of the Lord, and the 
approaching end of all things, being so fre- 
quently and explicitly declared in scrij)ture, 
it is no wonder that there should continue 
to be found a body of believers making 
that important truth, and the duties grow- 
ing out of it, a i^rimary point in their 
religion. Though less numerous than 
formerly, they are still to be found in con- 
siderable numbers, with many earnest 
preachers ; their chief organ has been the 
Advent Herald, published in Boston, and 
conducted with much decorum and ability. 

It is not surprising that a man of Mr. 
Miller's strong and ardent temperament, 
should live and die in the same belief 
which he had promulgated with such evi- 
dent sincerity ; for, while acknowledging, 
as events proved, the want of accuracy in 
his chronological calculations — he still 
claimed, to the end of his days, that the 
nature and nearness of the crisis were sus- 
tained by scriptural evidence. He died 
a peaceful and happy death, at the age 
of sixty-eight, in the year 1.849, and an 
admirably fair and well-written biography 
of him, from the pen of Mr. Himes, ap- 
peared soon after. 



As a man, Mr. Miller is described as 
strictly temperate in all his habits, 
devoted in his family and social attach- 
ments, and proverbial for his integrity. 
He was naturallj' very amiable in his tem- 
perament, affable and attentive to all, — a 
kind-heartedness, simplicity, and power, 
jjeculiarly original, characterizing his 
manner. He was of about medium stature, 
a little corpulent; hair, a light glossy 
brown ; countenance full and roimd, with 
a peculiar depth of expression in his blue 
eye, of shrewdness and love. 




As a preacher, ]\Ii-. Miller was generally 
spoken of as convincing his hearers of his 
sincerity, and instructing them by his 
reasoning and information. All acknowl- 
edge that his lectures were replete with 
useful and interesting matter, showing a 
knowledge of scripture very extensive and 
minute — that of the prophecies, especially, 
being surprisingly familiar; and his ap- 
plication of the great prophecies to the 
great events which have taken place in the 
moral and natural world, was, to say the 
least, ingenious and plausible. There was 
nothing very peculiar in his manner; his 
gestures were easy and expressive; his 
style decorous, simple, natural, and forci- 
ble. He was always self-possessed and 
ready; distinct in his utterance, and fre- 
quently quaint in his observations ; in the 
management of his subject, exhibiting 
much tact, holding frequent colloquies with 
the objector and inquirer, supplying the 
questions and answers himself in a very 



314 



EXPECTED DESTRUCTION OF THE WORLD. 



apposite manner, and, although grave him- 
self, sometimes producing a smile upon 
the faces of his auditors. Much blame 
\vas cast upon Mr. Miller, by some of his 
opponents, for not contenting himself with 
a quiet and unostentatious avowal of his 
views, instead of traveling over the whole 
country, and inaugurating the "noisy and 
boisterous sj'stem of camp-meetings" in 
connection with so solemn a theme. But, 
that these camp-meetings did not partake 
of the obnoxious qualities thus charged, 
will appear — from one e.xample at least, — 
by the following account, written by John 
G. Whittier, one of the most enlightened 
and impartial of observers : — 

On my way eastward (says Mr. Whittier), 
I spent an hour or two at a camp-ground of 
the Second Advent in East Kingston (N. 
H.) The spot was well chosen. A tall 
growth of pine and hemlock threw its mel- 
ancholy shadow over the multitude, who 
were arranged on rough seats of boards and 
logs. Several hundred — perhaps a thou- 
sand — people were present, and more were 
rajiidly coming. Drawn about in a circle, 
forming a background of snowy whiteness 
to the dark masses of men and foliage, 
were the white tents, and back of them the 
provision stalls and cook shops. When 
I reached the ground, a hj'mn, the words 
of which I could not distinguish, was peal- 
ing through the dim aisles of the forest. I 
know nothing of music, having neither ear 
nor taste for it — but I could readily see 
that it had its effect upon the multitude 
before me, kindling to higher intensity 
their already excited enthusiasm. The 
preachers were placed in a rude pulpit of 



rough boards, carpeted only by the dead 
forest leaves, and flowers, andtasseled, not 
with silk and velvet, but with the green 
boughs of the somber hemlocks around it. 
One of them followed the music in an earn- 
est exhortation on the duty of preparing for 
the great event. Occasionally, he was really 
eloquent, and his description of the last day 
had all the terrible distinctness of Anellis's 
i:)ainting of the ' End of the World.' 

Suspended from the front of the rude 
pulpit were two broad sheets of canvas, 
upon one of which was the figure of a 
man, — the head of gold, the breast and 
arms of silver, the belly of brass, the legs 
of iron, and feet of clay, — the dream of 
Nebuchadnezzar ! On the other were 
depicted the wonders of the Apocalyptic 
vision — the beasts — the dragons — the scar- 
let woman seen by the seer of Patmos — 
oriental types and figures and mystic 
symbols translated into staring Yankee 
realities, and exhibited like the beasts of a 
traveling menagerie. One horrible image, 
with its hideous heads and scaly caudal 
extremity, reminded me of the tremendous 
line of Milton, who, in speaking of the same 
evil dragon, describes him as "Swinge- 
ing the scaly horrors of his folded tail." 
To an imaginative mind the scene was 
full of novel interest. The white circle of 
tents — the dim wood arches — the upturned, 
earnest faces — the loud voices of the 
speakers, burdened with the awful sym- 
bolic language of the Bible — the smoke 
from the fires rising like incense from 
forest altars, — carried one back to the days 
of primitive worship, when " The groves 
were God's vii-st temples." 



XXXIX. 

AWFUL EXPLOSION OF COMMODORE STOCKTON'S 

GREAT GUN, THE "PEACEMAKER," ON BOARD 

THE U. S. STEAMSHIP PRINCETON.— 1S44. 



The Secretaries of State and of the Navy, and Other Eminent Persons, Instantly Killed. — Miracnlons 
Escape of the President. — Sudden Transition from the Height of Human Enjoyment to the Extreme 
of Woe. — Stockton's High Enthusiasm. — His Vast and Beautiful Ship. — Her Model .and Armament. 
— Styled the Pride of the Navy.— Invitations for a Grand Gala Day. — President Tyler Attends. — 
Countless Dignitaries on Board. — Array of Female Be.auty. — Music, Toasts, Wit and Wine. — Firing 
of the Monster Gun. — Its Perfect Success. — " One More Shot ! " by Request. — A Stunning and Mur- 
derous Blast. — Bursting of the Gun. — Death all Around. — Frightful Shrieks and Groans.— Scattering 
of Mangled Remains. — Agony of Woman's Heart. — Standing Place of the President. — Absent Just 
One Moment.— The Dead in Union Flags.— Funeral at the White House. 



** My tongue would fail me to express, aad my peo to portray, the ngonizing heart-throeB— the mingled wallings and frenzy— of that 

awful hour.'*— PBtSIDK.VT Ttlek. 




ARELY is there found in the pages of a hun- 
dred years' history, the record of a 
more awful catastrophe — shocking, 
indeed, in all its circumstances, 
concomitants, and results — than 
that which occurred on board the 
ship Princeton, Commodore Stock- 
ton, on the afternoon of February 
twenty-eighth, 1844, whilst under 
way, on the river Potomac, some 
fifteen miles below Washington. 
This war steamer had just been 
constructed in the city of Phila- 
delphia, according to improved plans enthusiastically advocated by Captain Stockton, 
who had also superintended the casting of the guns — ou a new principle and of prodig- 
ious size and power — constituting the steamship's armament. It was principallj^ to 
exhibit the superiority of these new and formidable weapons of war, in the preparation 
of which Stockton had so long been engaged, and of the perfection of which he luad, by 
repeated tests and experiments, thoroughly satisfied himself, that he issued cards of 
invitation to a large and brilliant company, of both sexes, to visit the magnificent ship 
and go on an excursion down the river. He had on successive days, jjreviously, extended 
this courtesy to various congressional committees and other officials, but this was to be 
the gala day on the decks of the most stupendous and beautiful ship ever beheld on the 
waters of the Potomac. 



STOCKTON'S GREAT OUN, THE 



PEACEMAKER." 



316 



EXPLOSION OF THE PEACEMAKER. 



Little did any one (iiiioiii/ that fjiii/ and 
splendid fhro?it/ anticipate a sudden trans- 
ition from the height of human enjoij- 
vient to the extreme of wailinff, anguish, 
and death/ 

The day was remarkably fine, the sun 
rising clear and briglit, and Washington 
from early in the morning presented a gay 
and busy scene. Nearly all the carriages 
were engaged, and freighted with the love- 
liness, beauty and grace of the city. 
About eleven o'clock in the forenoon, Mr. 
Tyler, the 2Jresideut of the United States, 
as chief guest, Mrs. Robert Tyler, Miss 
C wper, Ml-. John Tyler, Jr., — all from the 




executive mansion, — with a large number 
of officers in glittering uniforms, all the 
members of the cabinet except Mr. Spen- 
cer, many other high functionaries of state, 
senators and representatives, quite a num- 
ber of attaches and secretaries of lega- 
tion. General Allmonte, minister from 
Mexico (Sir Richard Packenham had been 
invited, but declined, ) and others, to the 
number of some four hundred, were assem- 
bled on the deck of one of the steamers 
plying between Washington and Alexan- 
dria, fast bearing down for the latter jjlace. 
Opposite the navy yard, a boat load of 
musicians were taken on board, who, as 
the company approached Alexandria, and 
the Princeton hove in sight, struck up 
'Hail Columbia,' while the convoy was 
describing a graceful curve under the bow 



of the splendid war steamer, to view her 
in all her pride of architectural model, — 
the flags of every nation streaming in the 
brightness of the meridian sun from every 
mast, and her yards manned to return the 
cheers that were uttered by the happ^' 
guests as they neared her side. 

They now approached the Princeton on 
her larboard side, and came quite close to 
her. A bridge was soon made from the 
hurricane deck to the great steamship, and 
the ladies and gentlemen received by the 
officers on deck, and conducted to Captain 
Stockton, who was in full uniform. The 
band now struck up the ' Star Spangled 
Banner,' the marines presented arms, and 
as soon as the company were on board, a 
salute of twenty-one guns was fired, the 
band still playing national airs; and it 
was quite amusing to see how many ladies 
remained on deck to witness the naval 
maneuvers and evolutions, although they 
had been politely requested to step down, 
so as not to be annoyed by the smell of the 
powder, or the noise of the report. Sump- 
tuous, too, was the banquet spread before 
this gay and brilliant company. 

In the meanwhile, the Princeton hove 
anchor and made sail, bearing down for 
Fort Washington and Mount Vernon — her 
sailing qualities being admired by all. 
Past Fort Washington, where the Potomac 
expands, presenting sufficient scope for 
the power of the Princeton's big guns, the 
forward gun was shotted and fired, the 
ball striking the water and rebounding 
five or six times, till the eye could no 
longer follow its progress. An eye-witness 
of this experiment — a newspajjer corre- 
spondent — states, that, in order to observe 
the effect of the shot, he posted himself on 
the nearest larboard cannonade gun, and, 
by the side of this, a kind of scaffolding 
had been' erected by the sailors, for the 
ladies to stand on. One or two ladies had 
taken their position there, and, close by, 
stood Mr. Secretary Upshur, intent upon 
witnessing the whole scene. The corre- 
spondent offered his place to the secretary, 
but the latter declined, saying he preferred 
to stand where he was — the precise spot 



EXPLOSION OF THE PEACEMAKER. 



517 



where, an hour afterward, he was torn to 
pieces. 

Captain Stockton's great gun — called 
ironically "the Peacemaker," — was now 
again loaded with shot, and another trial 
made of its strength and efScieuey. The 
gun was pointed to leeward, and behind it 
stood Captain Stockton ; a little to the left 
of him, Mr. J. Washington Tyson, assist- 
ant postmaster-general. By the side of 
the latter, a little behind him, stood Mr. 
Strickland, of Philadelphia; and a little to 
the right of, but behind him. Colonel 
Benton, of Missouri, who had a lady at his 
arm; and Judge S. S. Phelps, senator 
from Vermont. To the leeward of the gun 
stood Judge Uijshur, the secretary of 
state ; also Governor Gilmer, the secretary 
of the nav}-, who had but a few days previ- 
ously entered on the duties of his office ; 
and, a short distance behind them, the late 
charge d'affaires to Belgium, INIr. Maxey, 
of Maryland. By the side of him stood 
Hon. ]\Ir. Gardiner, of New York, and 
Commodore Kennon, chief of one of the 
navy bureaus. 

On firing the gun, a murderous blast 
succeeded — the whole ship shook and 
reeled — and a dense cloud of smoke envel- 
oped the whole group on the forecastle ; 
but when this blew away, an awful and 
heart-rending scene presented itself to the 
view of the hushed and agonizing .specta- 
tors. Tlie gun had burst, at a 2^oint three 
or four feet from the breech, and scattered 
death and desolation yll around. 

The lower jsart of tlie gun, from the 
trunnions to the breev,h, was blown off, 
and one-half section of it lying upon the 
breast of the newsjjaper corresjjondent ; it 
took two sailors to remove it. Secretary 
Upshur was badly cut over the eye and in 
his legs, his clothes being literally torn 
from his bod}' ; he expired in a verj' few 
minutes. Governor Gilmer, of Virginia, 
— under whose official directions, as secre- 
tary of the navy, tlie power of this great 
gun was tested, — was found equally badly 
injured; he had evidently been struck by 
the section of the gun before it had 
reached Mr. Upshur. Mr. Sykes, member 



of congress from New Jersej', endeavored 
to raise him from the ground, but was 
unable. A mattress was then procured, 
and Mr. Gilmer placed on it ; but before 
anj' medical assistance could be procured, 
he was not among the living. 

Mr. Maxey had his arms and one of his 
legs cut off, the pieces of flesh hanging to 
the mutilated limbs, cold and bloodless, 
in a manner truly frightful. Mr. Gardi- 
ner, of New York (one of whose daugh- 
ters subsequently became the wife of Pres- 
ident Tyler), and Commodore Kennon, 
lingered about half an hour ; but they did 
not seem for a single moment to be con- 
scious of their fate, and expired almost 
without a groan. The flags of the Union 
were placed over the dead bodies, as their 
winding-sheets. 

Behind the gun, the scene, though at 
first equally distressing, was less alarming. 
Captain Stockton, who was knocked down 
and somewhat injured, almost instantly 
rose to his feet, and, mounting upon the 
wooden carriage, quickly and anxiously 
surveved the whole effect of the calamity. 
All the hair of his head and face was 
burnt off; and he stood calm and undis- 
mayed, but deeply conscious, over the 
frightful wTreck. Shrieks of woe were 
heard from every quarter — death and deso- 
lation, blood and mangled remains, were 
all around. In addition to the deaths 
already mentioned, about a dozen sailors 
were badlj wounded ; one was dead, and, 
behind him, Colonel Benton, Judge 
Phelps, and Mr. Strickland, as if dead, 
were extended on the deck. On that side, 
by a singular concatenation of circum- 
stances, Mr. Tyson, of Philadelphia, was 
the only person who stood his ground, 
though a piece of the gun, weighing about 
two pounds, had passed through his hat, 
about two inches from his skull, and fallen 
down by the side of him. A servant of 
the president, a colored lad of about fifteen 
years of age, was amongst the slain. Pres- 
ident Tyler himself was saved only by the 
merest accident — having been temporarily 
called back from where he stood, just a 
moment before ! 



318 



EXPLOSION OF THE PEACEMAKER. 



Judge Phelps, of Vermont, had his hat 
blown or knocked off, and the buttons of 
his coat torn off. Mr. Strickland, of Phil- 
adelphia, immediately recovered his posi- 
tion. Miss Woodbury and Miss Cooper, 
who, in company of Captain Eeed, of the 
army, and Mr. Welles, of Philadelphia, 
had been standing on a leeward gun, were 
not hurt ; but the first-named lady — the 
beautiful and accomplished daughter of 
Senator Woodbury, of New Hampshire, — 
had her whole face sprinkled with blood, 
from one of the unfortunate killed or 
wounded. Judge Wilkins was only saved 
by a rollicking bit of witticism of his. 




He had taken his stand by the side of his 
colleague in office. Secretary Gilmer, but 
some remarks falling from the lips of the 
latter, and perceiving that the gun was 
about to be fired, exclaimed, suiting his 
action to the word — 

" Though secretary of war, I don't like 
this firing, and believe that I shall run ! " 

A most heart-rending scene was that 
which transpired among some of the lady 
guests. The two daughters of Mr. Gardi- 
ner, of New York, were on board, and 
were piteously lamenting the death of 
their father ; while Mrs. Gilmer, from 
whom the company had in vain attempted 
to withhold, for a time, the dreadful news 
of the death of her husband, presented 
truly a spectacle fit to be depicted by a 
tragedian. Her agony was doubtless 
aggravated by a peculiar incident. It 



appears that, while President Tyler and 
family, and a large number of ladies and 
gentlemen in the cabin, were in the act of 
leaving the banquet-table, to proceed to 
the deck, the movement was arrested 
for a moment, by a gentleman announcing 
that one of the ladies would give a toast, 
and but for which it is probable most of 
the party would have been exposed to the 
deadly missiles. Some of the ladies, how- 
ever, were upon deck, and near enough to 
be dashed with the blood and mangled 
remains of the victims. One of those 
ladies was the wife of Secretary Gilmer, 
and it tvas at her husband's special request, 
that the gun on 'his occasion ivas fired, 
in order that he might observe its quality 
in some peculiar way. This gun was the 
one called the 'Peacemaker;' the other, 
of the same size on board, was called the 
'Oregon.' 

Mr. Seaton, mayor of the city of Wash- 
ington, was one of the company, having 
been invited by Mr. Gilmer, and would 
have accompanied him to the deck to 
witness the firing, but for a difficulty in 
finding his cloak and hat at the moment. 
A lady, standing upon the deck between 
two gentlemen, one of whom had his hat, 
and the other the breast of his coat taken 
off, escaped unhurt. The secretary of 
state, Mr. Upshur, left a wife and daugh- 
ter, to mourn his untimely death ; Secre- 
tary Gilmer, a wife and eight children — 
the eldest but fifteen. Commodore Kennon 
left a young wife, and children by his first 
wife. Mr. Maxey also left a wife and 
children ; and Colonel Gardiner two accom- 
plished daughters, leading belles in the 
society of the metropolis. The only cir- 
cumstance calculated to relieve the all-per- 
vading distress, was, that of the multitude 
of ladies who were on board the ship, not 
one was materially injured. 

As illustrating the effect of such a phe- 
nomenon, upon those who were near 
enough to have their sensations and emo- 
tions wrought upon to the highest degree, 
without actual injury to their persons, the 
experience of Senator Benton — certainly 
one of the strongest-minded of men — is an 



EXPLOSION OF THE PEACEMAKER. 



319 




EXPLOSION OF THE GREAT GUN OS BOARD THE UNITED STATES STEAMSHIP PRINCETON. 



interesting case in point. In that sena- 
tor's account of the occurrence, he says, 
among other things : ' Lieutenant Hunt 
caused the gun to be worked, to show the 
ease and precision with which her direc- 
tion could be changed, and then pointed 
down the river to make the fire — himself 
and the gunners standing near tlie breech 
ou the right. I opened my mouth wide to 
receive the concussion on the inside as well 
as on the outside of the head and ears, so 
as to lessen the force of the external 
shock. I saw the hammer pulled back 



— heard a tap — saw a flash — felt a blast in 
the face, and knew that my hat was gone ; 
and that was the last that I knew of the 
world, or of myself, for a time, of which I 
can give any account. The first that I 
knew of myself, or of anything afterwards, 
was rising up at the breech of the gun, 
seeing the gun itself split open, — two 
seamen, the blood oozing from their ears 
and nostrils, rising and reeling near me — 
Commodore Stockton, hat gone, and face 
blackened, standing bolt upright, staring 
fixedly upon the shattered gun. I had heard 



320 



EXPLOSION OF THE PEACEMAKER. 



no noise — no more than the dead. I only 
knew that the gun had burst from seeing 
its fragments. I liad gone through tlie 
experience of a sudden death, as if from 
lightning, which extinguishes knowledge 
and sensation, and takes one out of the 
world without tliouglit or feeling. I think 
I know what it is to die without knowing 
it, and that such a death is nothing to 
bim that revives. The rapid and lucid 
working of the mind to the instant of 
extinction, is the marvel that still aston- 
ishes me. I beard the tajj — saw the flash, 
felt the blast — and knew nothing of the 
explosion. I was cut off in that inappre- 
ciable point of time which intervened 
between the flash and the fire — between 





the burning of the powder in the touch- 
hole, and the burning of it in the barrel of 
the gun. No mind can seize that point of 
time, no thought can measure it ; j-et to 
me it was distinctly marked, divided life 
from death— the life that sees, and feels, 
and knows, from death (for such it was for 
the time), which annihilates self and the 
world. And now is credible to me, or 
rather comprehensible, what persons have 
told me of the rapid and clear working of 
the mind in sudden and dreadful catastro- 
phes — as in steam-boat explosions, and 
being blown into the air — and have the 
events of their lives pass in review before 
them, and even speculate upon tlie chances 
of falling on the deck and being crushed. 



or falling on the water and swimming: 
and persons recovered from drowning, and 
running their whole lives over in the inter- 
val between losing hope and losing con- 
sciousness.' This account, written by Mr. 
Benton, several j'ears after the occurrence, 
shows the vivid impression made upon his 
mind. 

Of similar interest was the experience 
of Judge Phelps, senator from Vermont, 
who was nearer to the gun than any other 
guest, and who had at his side a young 
lady, Miss Sommerville, from Maryland. 
The judge was prostrated, his hat and the 
lady's bonnet disappeared, her dress was 
also torn, and the judge's ajjparel rent and 
demolished. The lady's face was scorched, 
and she stood like a statue, 
unconscious. 'I took a 
glance at the scene,' says 
the judge, writing to a 
friend, 'caught her round 
the waist, and carried her 
below. I witnessed a scene 
there which I shall not at- 
tempt to describe — it was 
one of agony, frenz}' — the 
shrieks of a hundred fe- 
males — wives, daughters, 
sisters — the beauty, the 
loveliness of the land. The 
imploring appeals to know 
the fate of the nearest and 
dearest objects of their af- 
fection can not be forgotten. ' Sir,' said 
one, 'they ivill not tell me about my hus- 
band.' I knew her not, but she was at that 
moment a widow — her husband was blown 
to atoms ! You will hardly believe me 
when I tell you I was calm — collected. It 
was no time for trepidation. I felt as if 
introduced in the presence of ray Maker. 
The scene was unearthl}- ; every selfish 
feeling vanished — even my own life was of 
no account. I was taken to the portals of 
eternity, and felt that I was surveying 
not the paltry interests of time and sense, 
but man's eternal destiny. The first tear 
which started in my eye fell upon the 
few lines which conveyed to my beloved 
and devoted wife the assurance that she 



EXPLOSION OF THE PEACEMAKER. 



321 



was not a widow, nor her children father- 
less.' 

The first hours after the ajipalling catas- 
trophe were marked, as might be ex- 
pected, by high excitement. Astonish- 
ment, and a feeling of dismay, mingled 
with intense and painful curiosity, seized 
upon the entire community. All tongues 
were busy in pressing or answering in- 
quiries. Men rushed out of doors, crowded 
the resorts of public intelligence, gathered 
in knots about the streets, and with eager 
countenances turned to every new-comer 
for further information. 

The next day, crowds poured down to 
the wharf where the bodies were expected 
to be landed, and, though long disap- 
pointed, continued to wait, hour after 
hour, till at length the minute-guns from 
below announced the departure of the cof- 
fins from on board the steamer, and the 
commencement of their melancholy route 
up to the city. 

As the boat which bore them approached 
her landing-place, the surrounding shores 
were covered with spectators, while a long 
line of carriages stood in waiting to follow 
in the train which bore the remains of the 
dead. Six hearses, in sad contiguity, stood 
side by side, and received in succession 
their mournful freight, as the coffins, 
borne by seamen and followed each by an 
escort of naval officers, were brought 
along through an avenue of sympathizing 
citizens, who opened to the right and 
left to let them pass. Scores of carriages 
followed to the presidential mansion, 
whither the dead were carried by the 
president's particular desire, and de- 
posited in the East room. That vast 
apartment, so often the scene of brilliant 
festivity — so often echoing the strains of 
joyous music and the mingled voices of the 
gay — was now converted, in the provi- 
dence of God, into a sepulchral chamber, 
cold, silent, and dark. 

Saturday was fixed upon for the funeral 
ceremonies, and the city was filled with 
those who came to witness the solemn 
rites and pomp of the occasion, the bustle 

of business being hushed at an early hour, 
21 



Before the bodies were removed from the 
executive mansion, religious services were 
performed by Rev. Messrs. Hawley, 
Laurie, and Butler. The funeral proces- 
sion was then formed, and presented an 
imposing cotrp iVceil. Generals Scott and 
Jones led the splendid military escort. 
Among the distinguished pall-bearers 
were Messrs. Archer, Morgan, Bolton, 
Totten, Worth, Gibson, Aulick, Shubrick, 
Crane, Towson, Kennedy, Hunt, Barnard, 
Fish, Fendall, — all departments of the 
government, legislative, executive, judi- 
cial, military and naval, being largely 
represented in the vast and magnificent 
procession. With these honors, accom- 
panied by minute-guns and tolling bells, 
the bodies were borne to the congressional 
burying-ground, where the military halted, 
and, forming in line in front of the gate, 
received the hearses with martial salutes 
and dirges. Minute-guns were fired from 
the west terrace of the capitol grounds, 
from the navy yard, and from other points, 
as the cavalcade proceeded on its route ; 
religious services were again performed, 
on depositing the coffins in the receiving 
vault ; after which, the military, as usual, 
closed the solemn pageant of outward 
ceremonial, by firing volleys in honor of 
the lamented dead. 

By direction of the president, Hon. 
John Nelson became, ad interim, secretary 
of state ; and Commodore Warrington, in 
like manner, secretary of the navy ; in 
place of Messrs. Upshur and Gilmer. 

Concerning the great gun used on this oc- 
casion, and of which Commodore Stockton 
was the projector, it may be remarked that 
it was manufactured in New York, and 
was far superior in point of workmanship 
to its companion, the ' Oregon,' which was 
made in England. The 'Peacemaker' 
was placed in the bow of the ship, on a 
revolving carriage, so that it might be 
fired from either side. An ordinary 
charge of powder for it was thirty pounds. 
It carried a ball weighing two hundred 
and twenty-five pounds ; and such was the 
precision with which it could be fired, as 
ascertained from actual experiments, that 



322 



EXPLOSION OF THE PEACEMAKER. 



an object the size of a hogshead could be 
hit nine times in ten, at a distance of 
half a mile. 

The gun being loaded, the first thing 
was to ascertain the precise distance of 
the object to be fired at, this being done 
by means of an instrument, constructed 
upon trigonometrical principles, the scale 
on which indicated the distance at a 
glance. The next thing was to give the 
gun the proper elevation. This was done 
by means of a self-acting lock, on an arm 
of which was a scale that indicated the 
precise elevation necessary to reach a 
given distance with the ball. A spring 
on top of the lock was then brought up 
to the point indicated, the hammer pulled 
back, and, at the very point of time when, 



^T 




by the ship's motion, the gun reached that 
•point, and not before nor afterward, the 
gun was of itself discharged. 

The weight of the ' Peacemaker ' was 
ten tons ; its length, fifteen feet ; with a 
bore of twelve inches. It had been tested 
with a charge of fortj'-nine pounds of 
powder ; had frequently been fired with 
thirty ; it exploded with twenty-five. 

A few days before the exhibition of the 
ordnance to the presidential party, there 
was an interesting trial of the gun, — its 
manner of working and its powers — 
attended with most satisfactory results. 
All the preparation for firing, with the 



exception simply of putting the powder 
and ball into the gun, was made by Com- 
modore Stockton personally. By means 
of a tackle fixed to the breech, a motion 
was given to the gun similar to that im- 
parted by a heavy swell, and when it 
reached the point indicated it was dis- 
charged. The ball in this case traveled 
about two miles before it hit the water, 
and then bounded several times. The 
Princeton went down the river as far as 
Mount Vernon. In going down, the 
'Peacemaker' was discharged three times, 
and, in returning, twice. On the fourth 
fire, the ball struck on the land, and its 
effect was lost sight of by those on board 
— so that the party demanded another 
fire, and respectfully requested the cap- 
tain to put in a little 
more powder this time. 
Before firing for the fifth 
and last time, the captain 
said he should take the 
sense of the company. 
" All those in favor of an- 
other fire will say, aye." 
The air resounded with 
"aye!" "All those op- 
posed to another fire will 
say, no." Not a solitary 
voice. " The ayes have 
it," said the captain ; " I 
have the assent of con- 
gress, and I'll go ahead." 
Probably fifty pounds of 
powder went into the 
'Peacemaker' this time. As before, the 
gun was fired by the captain himself. 
The ball went, probably, four miles before 
it struck. It bounded fifteen times on the 
ice, in the course of which it performed a 
half circle. 

Stockton was one of those persevering 
and enlightened exjjerimenters who, like 
James, Rodman, Wade, Dahlgren, Ames, 
Sawyer, Parrott, Hotchkis.s, Gillmore, are 
an honor to the cause of military science. 
It was in 1839, while in England, that his 
attention was attracted to the extraordi- 
nary and important improvements there 
introduced in the manufacture of large 



EXPLOSION OF THE PEACEMAKER. 



323 



masses of wrought iron for objects requir- 
ing great strength, and he was thus led 
to consider the question how far the same 
material might be employed in the con- 
struction of cannon of large caliber. 
Singular enough, when Commodore Stock- 
ton applied to a manufacturer to do the 
job, he — the manufacturer — declared that 



it could not be done ; and it was not until 
Commodore Stockton had promised to pay 
all the expense of an attempt out of his 
own pocket, that the manufacturer would 
consent to make a trial. In a short time, 
the manufacturer, seeing that it was per- 
fectly practicable, became as great an en- 
thusiast in the matter as Stockton himself. 



KL. 

DISCOTERT OF THE INHALATION OF ETHER AS A PRE- 
VENTIVE OF PAIN.— 1846. 



Performance of Surgical Operations Involving the Intensest Torture, During the Happy TJnconsciouB- 
ne«8 of the Patient — Account of the First Capital Demonstration Before a Crowded and Breathless 
Assembly. — Its Signal Success. — Thrill of Enthusiastic Joy — Most Beneficent Boon Ever Conferred 
by Science upon the Human Race. — Instinctive Dread of Pain — Fruitless Search Hitherto for a Pre- 
ventive. — Terror of the Probe and Knife. — Heroes Quail Before Them. — Case of the Blutf Old 
Admiral. — Discovery of the LonK-soucht Secret. — Sulphuric Ether the Prize. — Bliss During Ampu- 
tation — Honor Due to America. — A Whole World Elated. — Medical Men Exultant. — Curious Relig- 
ious Objections — Test Case in Surgery. — Startling and Romantic Interest. — Value in Public Hos- 
pitals. — VVarSufferings Ameliorated — Various Effects while Inhaling. — Amusing and Extraordinsry 
Cases. — " Thocht the Deil had a Grip o' her ! " — Odd Talk of an Innocent Damsel. — Old Folks 
Wanting to Dance — Awards to the Discoverers. 



" The fierce extremit7 of eufFerinE has been steeped in the wotere of forgettulDess, and the deepest ftirrow in the knotted brow ot 
agony bus been tmootbed forever."— Pbof. O. W. Holmes. 



UMANITY — even the hardiest 
and bravest portions of it — in- 
stinctively shrinks, with dread, 
from the pain attendant upon a 
deliberate cutting of the living 
flesh by surgical instruments. 
The case is related of a bhiff 
old English admiral — one of the 
stoutest hearts that ever beat, in 
a service whose men of every 
grade are, to a proverb, daunt- 
KELiEviNo p.\iN Bv THE rsE OF ETHER. Icss, — who, iu the Opening of his 

distinguished career, had been engaged in cutting out an enemy's frigate. From^ tlie 
gun-boat, he climbed up the ship's steep side, and, foremost of his crew, had reached the 
bulwarks, when, receiving a stunning blow, he fell into his boat again, striking hi.s 
back with great violence. Years afterwards, a tumor had grown on the injured 
part; and at length the admiral— gr.av, and bent in years— found it advisable tKa.t 
this growth should be removed. The man that never feared death in its most ghastly 
and appalling form, now shrank from the surgeon's knife ; the removal, contemplated by 
the man of many battles with feeling almost akin to childish fear, was long deferred; 
and at length, half st.ipefied by opium tliougii be was, a most unsteady patient did he 
prove during the operation. 




DISCOVERY OF THE INHALATION OF ETHER. 



325 



Numberless instances have there been, 
too, of women — mothers — who, for their 
kindred, have been at any time ready to sac- 
rifice their livesjbj' watching and privation, 
in loathsome and tainted chambers of infec- 
tious disease, but, when themselves be- 
came victims of that which they knew re- 
quired a surgical operation, and which, 
without this, they were well assured must 
miserably consume them away, — even 
these noble minds, resolute in the prospect 
of death, have yet quailed under the fear 
of surgical suffering; they have studiously 
concealed their malady from their nearest 
friends, and deliberately preferred the 
misery of a fatal, and unchecked, and 
gnawing cancer, to the apprehended tor- 
ture of an operation, temporary though it 
be. This feeling has been universal, in 
all ages, among the victims of keen physi- 
cal suffering. 

From time immemorial, means have 
been sought, and with partial success, to 
relieve and even to destroy pain, during 
the manipulations of practical surgery. 
For this purpose, opium, Indian hemp, 
mesmerism, and nitrous oxide gas and 
alcohol, have been employed, and all in 
their turn abandoned, except that opium 
in many cases, and mesmerism in a few, 
still continued to be used with imperfect 
success, and almost always with the subse- 
quent disadvantage of headache, feverish- 
ness, or other general disorder. 

It was reserved for the simple inhala- 
tion of a certain gas — pure sulphuric 
ether — to achieve in surgery that for which 
surgeons had for centuries labored, and 
labored in vain ! 

This was in 1846. A certain old gentle- 
man, however, — as the case is narrated, — 
was not altogether a stranger to the com- 
forting effects of this same anodyne pro- 
cess, some forty years previously. He had 
discovered that the fumes of ether could 
lull him into forgetfulness of the pains 
and disquietude of a bustling and check- 
ered life. He was a man of research in 
his way ; curious in beds, baths, and pro- 
fessing to understand disea-^e and its cure 
better by far than his fellows. But he 



was loose in principle, as well as weak in 
science, and no doubt, most deservedly, 
had many roughnesses in life which he 
could wish to rub away. His mode was 
this : Obtaining an ounce or two of 
ether, he leisurely sniffed up its vapor, sit- 
ting softly the while, and manifestly en- 
joying a time of calmness and repose, 
greatly to his liking. Indeed, on being 
interrogated, he was in the habit of 
blandly answering, " soothing, sir, sooth- 
ing to an immeasurable degree." In this 
oblivion to the disgusting harassments 
of life, he was in the habit of indulging 
manj' times a day. He had curiously dis- 
covered that the fumes of ether could 
relieve, temporarily, from the pains of a 
mind ill at ease ; but he was not to know 
that it could still more wonderfully 
assuage the body's worst suffering. 

The divulgement of this most beneficent 
boon to the world since man's moral re- 
demption — by which the most dreaded of 
surgical operations can be performed dur- 
ing a happy unconsciousness of the patient 
— not merely with little suffering, but ab- 
solutely with none — is due to three Ameri- 
cans, namely, Drs. Morton, Jackson, and 
Wells ; but to which of these is due the 
priority or chief merit of the discovery, is 
a question long and bitterly discussed, and 
still undecided. Certainlj', however, the 
proceedings of each of these gentlemen, in 
connection with the discovery, show un- 
doubted scientific acuteness, ingenuity, 
zeal and perseverance. 

The enthusiasm with which the an- 
nouncement of this marvelous discovery 
vras received may well be described as 
unbounded. Wafted across the Atlantic, 
it was at once hailed with rapturous ex- 
ultation in England, and speedily adopted 
in most of the large hospitals throughout 
the kingdom — also, in the vast hospitals 
of Paris, and in the numerous institutions 
of like character in Germany, including 
those so celebrated at Vienna and Berlin. 

Still, there were not wanting those who 
regarded the discovery with distrust, and 
some of the public medical institutions 
barred their doors against the new alle- 



326 



DISCOVERY OF THE INHALATION OF ETHER. 



viating agent. Objections based on relig- 
ious grounds were urged against the em- 
ployment of ether. Pain, it was argued, 
was the natural and intended consequence 
of the primal sin, and therefore any attempt 
to do away with it must be wrong. These 
objectors failed to see that their argument, 
if it proved anything, proved too much, 
since it held with equal cogency against 
any and every remedial agency, in all 
cases whatsoever. Others opposed the 
anssthetic on the ground that pain is sal- 
utary, and that its annihilation would be 



this, it was alleged that the new agent 
might be used for infamous purposes. " A 
fatal habit," it was said, " had sprung up 
of using ether, like opium, for purposes of 
exhilaration, to all intents intoxication. 
A burglar forced his way into a mansion 
when all its occupants were in profound 
slumber, and, applying ether to them, he 
had the house all to himself." Frequent 
accidents, moreover, resulted from the use 
of impure ether by unskillful hands, so fre- 
quent, indeed, that prosecution was threat- 
ened for administering it at all. 




HoraceWells 

THE THKEE COjAIMASTS OF THE DISCOVERY OF PADfljESS BUEGEBT, BY ETHEE. 



hazardous to the patient. And an emi- 
nent physiologist expressed the doubt 
whether there were a true advantage in 
suppressing pain. " It is a trivial mat- 
ter," said this stoic, " to suffer, and a dis- 
covery whose object is the prevention of 
pain is of slight interest." 

Then, too, letters came pouring in upon 
the discoverer from all over the civilized 
world, upbraiding him with having an- 
nounced the claims of a humbug. He 
also received constant visits from profes- 
sional gentlemen, who questioned the ac- 
curacy of the experiments. Worse than 



But the domain of the grim demon. 
Pain, having once been successful!}- in- 
vaded, humanity and science were ill-dis- 
posed to yield the vantage ground. One 
of the most eminent professors of surgery 
in America, Dr. 0. W. Holmes, said : 
" The knife is searching for disease — the 
pulleys are dragging back dislocated 
limbs — nature herself is working out the 
primal curse, which doomed the tenderest 
of her creatures to the sharpest of her 
trials ; but the fierce extremity' of her 
suSering lias been steeped in the water^^ 
of forgetfulness, and the deepest furrow 



DISCOVERY OF THE INHALATION OF ETHER. 



327 



in the knotted brow of agony has been 
smoothed forever." So, too, that world- 
renowned surgeon and anatomist, Dr. 
John C. Warren, — grave, venerable, and 
dispassionate, — exclaimed : 

" IFho could have imagined, that draiv- 
ing the knife over the delicate skin of the 
face might produce a. sensation of un- 
mixed delight/ — that the turning and 
twisting of instruments in the most sensi- 
tive bladder might be accompanied by a 
beautiful dream ! " 

It was natural enougli, certainly, that 
benevolence should prompt the humane 
surgeon to such utterances of congratula- 
tion, for it supplied to him a desideratum, 
long sought, for the relief of the excrucia- 
ting pain they were necessarily obliged to 
inflict in the practice of their profession. 
For screaming, and struggles, and intense 
suffering under the surgeon's knife, ether- 
ization substituted complete exemption 
from pain, associated in some with the 
quietude, mental and corporeal, of deep 
sleep ; in others, with pleasing dreams, 
imaginary busy scenes, and sweet music ; 
and in others, with a perfect consciousness 
of surrounding objects and events. The 
obstetrician finds in it the means of alle- 
viating that distress with which woman 
has always been afflicted, when in the 
act of becoming a mother. To the physi- 
cian it affords one of the most useful, as 
it is one of his most prompt, remedies. 
He, before, had no reliable means of re- 
lieving the spasms of tetanus ; he not 
unfrequently failed to procure sleep, in 
delirium tremens, when the question was 
one of sleep or death ; his before pallia- 
tive remedy, opium, for the pain of colic, 
too often purchased temporary relief at the 
expense of an aggravation of the cause of 
the disease, and of increased difficulties in 
its cure ; and he occasionally witnessed 
the breaking up of the system of a neu- 
ralgic patient, more as a consequence of 
repeated large doses of opium, than of the 
disease itself. 

Heretofore, also, the shock of .all serious 
operations had been formidable. The 
patient, however resigned and courageous, 



was deeply impressed in system ; the 
pulse became feeble, the surface cold and 
pale, the eye dim, respiration troubled, 
and the whole powers of life brought low. 
With the use of ether, this is otherwise. 
Parturition may take place, thighs may be 
amputated, stones extracted, tumors re- 
moved, dentistry in all its branches per- 
formed ; the chief deviations from the nor- 
mal characters of health being, in all these 
cases, such as are known to be the effects of 
ether — and, accordingly, both manageable 
and transient. In the armj', it has been 
found of incalculable service, in cases re- 
quiring the use of the probe and and knife, 
— the sadlj' ample opportunity in this field 
during the war in the Crimea, in Mexico, 
and on the battle-grounds of the South, 
adding fresh triumphs to the discovery. 

It will be interesting to give, at this 
point, an account of the first surgical 
operation j^erformcd tinder the influence 
of ether, the result of which so fully de- 
monstrated this glorious truth of science. 
It occurred at the Massachusetts General 
Hospital, the operator being Dr. Hay ward. 

In his own narration of the circum- 
stances of this deeply interesting and most 
important occasion. Dr. Haj'ward says : " It 
was my fortune to perform the first capital 
operation on a patient rendered insensible 
by the inhalation of sulphuric ether. It 
rarely falls to the lot of a professional 
man to be the witness of a scene of more 
intense interest. The operating-room was 
crowded ; many were obliged to stand. 
Besides the class of students in attend- 
ance on the lectures, numbering more than 
one hundred, and many of the principal 
physicians and surgeons of the city and 
neighborhood, there were present several 
clergymen, lawyers, and other individuals, 
from the various callings of life. When 
I entered the theater, before the patient 
was brought in, I found it, to my surprise, 
filled in every part, except the floor on 
which the table stood, with persons on 
whose countenances was depicted the al- 
most painful anxiety with which they 
awaited the result of the experiment they 
were about to witness. I simply told them 



328 



DISCOVEEY OF THE INHALATION OF ETHER. 



that I had decided, with the advice of my 
colleagues, to allow the patient on whom I 
was to operate, to inhale an article which 
was said to have the power of annulling 
pain. The patient was then brought in. 
She was a delicate looking girl of about 
twenty years of age, who had suffered for 
a long time from a scrofulous disease of 
the knee-joint. It had at length sup- 
purated ; there were extensive openings 
into the cavity of the joint ; the cartilages 
were ulcerated, and partly absorbed ; the 
bones carious, and symptoms of hectic 
fever had already made their appearance. 
As soon as she was well arranged on the 
table I told her that I should let her 
breathe something which I hoped would 
prevent her from suffering much from the 
operation, and that she need not be afraid 
of breathing it freely." The critical , 
nature of this case can easily be ajjpre- 
ciated, even by the unprofessional mind, 
and the result is fraught with deep and 
romantic interest. 

It being desirable that the amputation 
should be performed as rapidly as possible, 
Dr. Hayward decided to accomplish it 
by means of the flap operation. One per- 
son was to compress the artery, another to 
withdraw the flaps, a third to hand the in- 
struments, and a fourth to watch the pulse. 
Dr. Hayward grasped the patient's limb 
with his left hand, and held the amputat- 
ing knife behind him in his right, care- 
fully concealed from her view. The 
mouth-piece of the inhaling instrument 
was then put into her mouth, and she was 
directed to take long inspirations. After 
breathing in this way a short time, the 
nostrils were compressed, so that all the 
air that went into the lungs must first 
pass through the machine, and of course 
be mixed with the vapor of the ether. 
She bT-eathed with perfect ease, and with- 
out struggling, and in about three minutes 
from the time the instrument was put 
into her mouth, Dr Morton said, 'She is 
ready.' A death-like silence reigned in 
the room ; no one moved, or hardly 
breathed. The doctor passed the knife 
directly through the limb, and brought it 



out as rapidly as he could, and made the 
upper flap. The patient gave no sign of 
feeling or consciousness, but looked like 
one in a deep, quiet sleep. Every other 
person in the room took a full inspiration 
that was distinctly audible, and seemed to 
feel that they could now breathe again. 
The second flap was then made, the bone 
sawed, five arteries were tied, and as the 
doctor was tightening the ligature upon 
the sixth and last she groaned, being the 
first indication of sensibility that had 
been given. Nothing more was done than 
to bring the flaps together, cover the 
stump with cloths dipped in cold water, 
and appl}' two or three turns of a roller to 
keep them in place. Her consciousness 
soon returned ; she was tvkolli/ ignorant 
tliat the operation had been done! For 
some time she would not believe it, and 
said that she had felt nothing till the 
doctor tied the last artery. The operation 
lasted a minute and three-quarters. 

The phenomena, or effects, produced by 
the administration of ether, are extremely 
various, depending much, of course, upon 
the temperament, habits, and condition of 
the patient. Sometimes the dream is ex- 
quisitely charming, and the patient seems 
passed into another and a better world. 
Sometimes the opjjosite state obtains, the 
patient betraying manifest uneasiness 
while in the trance, by restless, staring, 
anguished eye-balls, by groaning, and by 
wrestling movements of the body. And 
these are not loath to emerge from the 
effects of the drug, while the former part 
with them grudgingly. One poor girl, for 
instance, had struggled hard during an 
amputation, yet felt no pain; and, on com- 
ing to herself, thankfulness was expressed 
in every feature, as well as by her blithe 
tongue, for she "thocht the deil had a 
gripo' her a' the time." 

In some cases, the dreamer is falling from 
a great height rapidly, down and down into 
some unfathomable ab\'ss. In other cases, 
the dream is warlike ; personal to the 
dreamer ; or of by-gone days, implicating 
some great military demonstration ; and 
the crack of tooth-pulling has thus passed 



DISCOVERY OF THE INHALATION OF ETHER. 



329 



off as the din of ordnance. Sometimes, in 
youth, the dream has been " all fun ;" and 
the dreamer has been anxious to be back 
into the midst of his pleasant pastime 
again, even at the cost of another tooth- 
drawing. The patient, if a wanderer, and 
then in a strange land, may dream pleas- 
antly of home — " she had been home, it 
was beautiful, and she had been gone a 
month ; " so said one poor woman in the 
midst of what, without the ether, would 
have been agony. 

Sometimes the dream passes steadily on 
to completion, sometimes it is abruptly 
closed by some critical procedure on the 
part of the operator — the extraction of a 
tooth, with a sudden wrench, for example. 
A soldier dreams of guns and bayonets, 
and strife, and clamor ; a sailor, of ships, 
and storms, and grog ; an Irishman of 
whiskey and shillalahs, and a " skrim- 
mage ; " a boy of marbles, tops, and " lots 
of fun ; " a mother, of home and children ; 
a girl, of gala-days and finery. 

A tippler fancies he is in the grog-shop, 
and there he may enjoy himself hugely — 
or he may dream " his wife came to fetch 
him." Quarrelsome men grow pugilistic, 
and coats may be doffed with appropriate 
accompaniment of word and action. 
Young men, having some one in their list 
of female acquaintance dearer than the 
rest, grow active lovers, and in lone walks, 
earnest conversations, or soft whisperings, 
seem to make rare progress in their suit. 
The swearing and dissolute may indulge 
in oaths and profane jests. The man of 
fervent piety, who is habitually looking 
heavenward, may not only suppose himself 
translated to the realms of bliss, but may 
take part in imagined exercises there. A 
patient of this class was known thus to 
employ himself immediately after a pain- 
ful operation ; four verses of a psalm were 
sung by him very loudly, with his ej'es 
fixed, his body in a tremor, and intense 
fervor shown in every movement ; he 
would not be interrupted, and could 
scarcely be prevailed upon to leave the 
operation-room, seeing that he found him- 
self so wonderfully happy there — said he 



had been in heaven, and had seen his 
Savior ; on reaching his bed, he fell on his 
knees and was rapt in prayer. 

Not always, however, is the dream con- 
sistent with the character. Among the 
instances showing this, is that of a young, 
simpering and innocent damsel, who, 
addressing a most amiable and excellent 
dentist, knitting her brow into something 
more than a frown, clenching her fist, and 
scowling defiance, vowed in the most up- 
roarious tone and manner, that if he ven- 
tured near her with his profane touch, 
"big blackguard, as he was, slie'd knock 
him down." And so, too, staid, demure, 
elderly persons, have, in most abandoned 
gaj'ety, insisted on the operator forthwith 
joining them in a joyous polka ! 

In plain language, as in plain fact — says 
an English reviewer, whose interesting 
resume is here quoted — the patient is 
drunk. Sometimes the consciousness of 
this condition is made apparent by the 
sensations which are induced in the early 
period of inhalation. " You'll have me 
drunk !" cried one ; "Oh, you rascals! I 
know what you are ; " evidently supposing 
that he had fallen into loose society, and 
that his companions had a design on him. 
But it is on coming out of the trance, that 
the intoxication shows most. The patient 
sways as he tries to stand ; is garrulous, 
sprightly, and humorous ; and often in- 
sists on shaking hands with all and 
sundry. The unsteadiness of gait, and 
lightness of head, sometimes have an 
inconvenient duration, as is illustrated in 
the case of a most worthy lady, who, leav- 
ing the dentist too soon, had to grope her 
way along the railing of the street, in 
noonday, and ran no slight risk of losing 
all reputation for sobriety. 

Among the many amusing examples of 
the effect produced by the administration 
of the anaesthetic — in addition to its pri- 
mary quality of annulling pain — the follow- 
ing may be cited : An Irish woman, who 
had never heard of ether pre^-ious to call- 
ing upon the dentist for the purpose of 
having a large molar tooth extracted, took 
it on being told that she would suffer no 



330 



DISCOVERY OF THE INHALATION OF ETHER. 



pain, and would, probably, have an inter- 
view with her friends in the old country. 
Just as its influence commenced, the 
doctor remarked that he would like to 
have her observe what occupation her 
friends were engaged in, if she succeeded 
in finding them. The tooth was drawn ; 
she moved not a muscle of the face, but 
remained as in a quiet sleep, for about one 



machinery, declared herself unhurt by the 
operation, and wished the doctor to see if 
there was not "another tooth what wanted 
to he drew." 

Another example of this class, was that 
of a middle-aged Irishman, who had sus- 
tained compound fracture of the leg. The 
fracture had not united, in consequence of 
the jiresence of a dead piece of Lone, and 




MONUMENT ERECTED IN HONOR OF TBB DISCOVERY OF ETHEB. 



minute. Upon opening her eyes she 
exclaimed, " I have seen all my friends ; 
they were engaged in spinning — and don't 
I hear their wheels now, snre ? " She 
said it appeared to her as though she had 
been absent many months. She recol- 
lected that she went home in a steam 
vessel, heard the noise of steam and 



it became necessary to remove this by a 
painful operation, in the following manner : 
The patient was seated on a table, and 
the inhalation was applied. At first, little 
effect was produced, but after some min- 
utes, the patient fell backwards, as in a 
swoon. The operator was then about to 
proceed ; but the man immediately ob- 



DISCOVERY OF THE INHALATION OF ETHER. 



331 



jected, saving that " he was not asleep, and 
that he trusted nothing would be done 
till he was asleep." For full twenty min- 
utes more the inhalation went on, the man 
confused and talkative, but wide-awake, 
and occasionally expressing very emphati- 
cally his conviction that " it would not do." 
At length, however, while in this wakeful 
state, the operation was begun. Incisions 
were made on the shin, and flaps were dis- 
sected off so as to expose the bone beneath. 
A portion of this was sawn and clipped 
through, and then the dead bone was 
removed. Only during the clipping of the 
bone with strong straining pliers did any 
sign of feeling escape from the patient, 
who was busy inhaling all the while, and 
now and then protesting that " it wouldn't 
do." The operation occupied about ten 
minutes, and, from the highly sensitive 
nature of the parts involved, must have 
been attended with excruciating suffering 
under ordinary circumstances. After it 
was over, the operator said to the patient — 

"I suppose you won't let me operate 
to-day ? " 

"Certainly not," replied the patient, 
" it won't do ; I must be asleep. The 
thing hasn't succeeded with me, and I am 
sure it can't succeed with any one else, for 
I did everything I could to get asleep, for 
my own sake, and I'd do anything to plase 
you." 

" Then you won't even let me make a 
cut into the leg ? " 

"No; I must be asleep ; we can try it 
another time." 

This plain proof of his utter unconscious- 
ness of the operation having been per- 
formed was acknowledged by the specta- 
tors in a hearty round of applause. The 
patient then sat up, and, seeing the wound, 
burst into an immoderate fit of laughter, 
saying— 

"No doubt there's blood, or something 
very like it ; but I haven't felt a single 
thing done to my leg. That hates the 
globe ! " 

On being asked decidedly as to his 
having felt anything, he repeatedly an- 
swered "Not a ha' porth." He got into 



amazing spirits, and refused to leave the 
room until he had told "all about the tol- 
drums of the business." And then, with 
the manner of a tipsy man, and very 
happy, he kept surgeons and students in a 
roar of laughter for some minutes with a 
narrative of his condition during the in- 
halation, which, Irish-like, seemed to have 
an interminable medley of imaginary 
fights and "killings" going on around 
him. 

It has already been stated, that Drs. 
Jackson, Morton, and Wells, respectively, 
claim the honor of having discovered this 
great fact in chemical and medical science, 
and the claim of each is supported by a 
formidable army of names and evidence. 
One of the most candid investigators of 
the character and weight of these several 
and conflicting claims, has presented the 
case in this light, namely : That to Dr. 
Wells unquestionably belongs the merit 
of having first demonstrated the happy 
idea of deadening sensibility in painful 
operations, by using both nitrous oxide 
and sulphuric ether ; that to Dr. Jackson, 
the thanks of the world are due for lend- 
ing that influence which his well-earned 
reputation qualified him to do, in estab- 
lishing confidence in the public mind in 
the use of sulphuric ether, as a substitute 
for the nitrous oxide ; and that, to Dr. 
Morton's indefatigable exertions in secur- 
ing the attention of leading medical men 
to the subject, was due the rapid adoption 
of sulphuric ether in connection with the 
practice of surgery. But, singularly 
enough, though the French Academy has 
acknowledged, by pecuniarj- and honorary 
awards, the indebtedness of mankind to 
the American discoverers of this vast 
blessing to humanity, the American gov- 
ernment has thus far failed to confer any 
reward upon any one of the distinguished 
claimants. A costly and superb monu- 
ment, designed and executed with con- 
summate skill by Ward, the eminent 
sculptor, and erected at the cost of a 
wealthy citizen of Boston, in honor of this 
great discovery, now adorns the public 
garden of that city. 



XLI. 

INVENTION OF THAT WONDROUS PIECE OF MECHANISM, 
THE SEWING-MACHINE.— 1846, 



Bomantic Genius and Perseverance Displayed in its Production — Toils of the Inventor in His Garret 
— World Wide Introduction of the Device. — Upwards of One Thousand Patents Taken Out in the 
United States— The Industrial Interests of the Country Affected to the Amount of $500,000,000 
Annually. — The Humble Inventor Becomes a Millionaire. — The Main Principle Involved. — Compari- 
son with Hand Sewing — How it was Suggested. — Listening to Some Advantage. — History of Mr. 
Howe's Effort.s. — Ingenuity, Struggles, Triumphs. — Value of a Friend in Need — A Machine at Last. 
— Its Parts, Capabilities, etc. — Reception by the Public. — Doubt Succeeded by Admiration. — Great 
Popularity and Demand. — Wearisome Litigation with Rivals — Interesting Question of Priority. — 
Decided in Howe's Favor. — He Rises to Affluence. — Improvements by Others — Unique and Useful 
Devices. — Number of Machines Produced. — Time and Labor Saved. — Eflect Upoo Prices — New 
Avenues of Labor Opened. 



'* The invention all admired. 

And eacii ln.w he lo be the inventor mlBsed. 

80 plain it seeme I i.ni-e f'lund — whicti yet tm-ftmnd, 

MoBt would liave thought impossible." 




IFFEKENCE of opinion there may 
'£ be, with regard to tlie abstract 
question, who first conceived the 
peculiar principle involved in 
sewing by machinery, and even 
in respect to who was the original con- 
structor of a machine capable of fulfilling 
idea ; but, so far as actual demonstra- 



THB LNVENTOB TOILLNQ IK EIS OABBET. 



tion of its feasibleness and utility is con- 
cerned, and for the great results which 
have followed that demonstration, the world 
must be considered as indebted to Elias 
Howe, Jr., a Massachusetts mechanic, born 
and reared in obscure circumstances, and 
at an early age thrown upon his own 
resources of industrious endeavor, for simple sub- 
sistence. 

It may be remarked, as a general fact, that the 
peculiar or original principle characterizing the 
modern sewing-machine, consists in the use of two 
threads, one being fed by a needle, and the other - 



INVENTION OF THE SEWING-MACHINE. 



333 



the wrong side thread, or, as it has been 
termed, the auxiliary thread — being sup- 
plied by a shuttle and bobbin. The needle 
is secured to a stock, whose movement, 
caused by arms and levers, drives its point 
through the material to be sewed ; the 
eye of the needle, at a moderate distance 
from the point, carries the thread through 
and then retires leaving a loop, through 
which loop a shuttle is passed, on the 
under side of the material to be sewed; 
this shuttle carries a quantity of thread 
upon a spool, which it supplies as the seam 
progresses. The needle on retiring draws 
up the loop, and thus closes the seam, 
■which on the upper or face side of the 
work presents the appearance of what is 
called a 'row of stitching,' and on the 
under, a close resemblance, but differing 
slightly. The return, or rotation of the 
shuttle in its orbit, is a matter of course, 
and the work thus goes on continuously 
and with great rapidity. 

The feed, or the progressive movement 
of the material to be sewed under the 
needle, is accomplished in various ways — 
primarily, by means of the friction of a 
feeding wheel, whose roughened surface 
creates sufficient adhesion to move the 
material forward at the requisite intervals. 
This feed is effected by the ordinary 
means of a racket-wheel and click, or paul, 
the latter being capable of adjustment 
through shifting levers, so as to give a 
longer or shorter stitch, at the will of the 
operator, or the requirements of the work. 

These devices and arrangements, with 
such improved modifications as experience 
and ingenuity have suggelted from time to 
time, constitute the American sewing- 
machine. 

Although the use of the sewing-machine 
has become general only within a compar- 
atively recent pe»iod, the instrument is, 
in a certain sense, an old invention. The 
needle with the eye in the center, and 
double-pointed, is beautifully employed in 
the embroidery machine, which is an old 
French device. This machine worked 
upon cloth as many as sixty similar figures 
or flowers at the same time ; the whole 



being directed by one hand, who, by the 
aid of a pentagraphic guide on a prepared 
pattern, pointed the needles to their appro- 
priate place of entrance, and returned them 
with unerring certainty and exactitude. 
The earliest form of stitch made use of 
was the 'chain stitch,' which is still 
employed for ornamental purposes, but is 
not approved of where strength and dura- 
bility are required. The next stitch in 
order was the ' running stitch,' and was 
accomplished by means of a needle having 
an eye in the middle and points at each 
end ; this has been extensively used for 
the cheaper kinds of work, but does not 
insure durabilitj'. The next form of stitch 
is that already described, as formed by 
means of two threads, with a needle and 
shuttle ; — and this opens up the wonderful 
era of modern sewing-machines, beginning 
with the introduction to the public of that 
by Mr. Howe. 

It would be impossible to follow Mr. 
Howe through all the details of his varied 
experience during his early years. Suffice 
it to say, that it was at Boston, when in 
his twentieth year, and after he had 
learned the rudiments of his trade in one 
of the machine shops of Lowell, and sub- 
sequently in Cambridge, working side by 
side with Nathaniel P. Banks, that the 
thought of sewing by machinery was first 
suggested to his mind. As related by 
Mr. Parton, in his admirable magazine 
sketch of Howe, this singularly fortuitous 
incident happened in this wise : — In the 
year 1839, two men in Boston, one a 
mechanic and the other a capitalist, were 
striving to produce a knitting-machine, 
which proved to be a task beyond their 
strength. "When the inventor was at his 
wit's end, his capitalist brought the 
machine to the shop of Ari Davis, to see 
if that eccentric genius could suggest the 
solution of the difficulty, and make the ma- 
chine work. The shop, resolving itself into 
a committee of the whole, gathered about 
the knitting-machine and its proprietor, 
and were listening to an explanation of its 
principle, when Davis, in his wild, extravar 
gant way, broke in with the question — 



334 



mVENTION OF THE SEWING-MACHHSTE. 



" What are you bothering yourselves 
with a knitting-machine for ? AVhy don't 
you make a sewing-machine ? " 

'•■ I wish I could," said the cajiitalist : 
"but it can't be done." 

" Oh, yes, it can," said Davis ; " I can 
make a sewing-machine myself." 

"Well," said the other, "j'ou do it, 
Davis, and I'll insure j'ou an independent 
fortune." 

Among the workmen who stood by and 
listened to this conversation — and in this 
instance at least the old adage concern- 
ing listeners appears to have been reversed 
— says Parton, was Howe ; and from that 
time he was in the habit, in his leisure 




moments, of meditating devices for sewing 
by machinery. Having inherited a con- 
stitution hardly strong enough for the 
work of a machinist, and burdened even 
in his opening manhood with the care of a 
growing family, his attention was more 
and more concentrated up«n the project 
of building a machine which would furnish 
him a livelihood more easily earned. In 
December, 1845, upon a small capital, pro- 
vided by the generosity of an old friend, 
he shut himself up in a garret at Cam- 
bridge, and set himself seriously to the 
task of inventing a sewing machine. 
After about six months of incessant labor 



and reflection he produced the first ma- 
chine that ever sewed a seam, and he was 
soon the wearer of a suit of clothes inade 
by its assistance. This first machine, 
which is one of great beauty and finish, is 
still in existence, an object of peculiar 
interest to the curious who inspect it ; and 
it will sew ten times as fast as a woman 
can sew by hand. Having patented the 
machine, and finding the tailors of Amer- 
ica averse to its introduction, he went to 
England, where he succeeded in selling 
two machines ; but found so little encour- 
agement that he would have starved to 
death but for the aid of friends, and he 
resolved to return home, or at least to send 
his family. So pinched was he, 
while in London, that he fre- 
quently borrowed small sums of 
his friend, ]\Ir. Inglis — on one 
occasion a shilling, with which he 
bought some beans, and cooked 
and ate them in his own room, — 
and through him also obtained 
some credit for provisions. A]> 
riving home, after an absence of 
about two years, he found that the 
sewing-machine was a conspicuous 
object of public attention ; doubt 
had been succeeded by admiration 
of its qualities ; and several ingen- 
ious men having experimented, 
had finally improved upon the ma- 
chine as originally constructed. 
A war of litigation ensued, and, 
after several years, Mr. Howe's 
claim to be the original inventor was 
legally and irreversibly established, the 
judge deciding that 'there was no evidence 
which left a shadow of doubt that, for all 
the benefit conferred upon the public by 
the introduction of a sewing-machine, the 
public are indebted to ]\Ir. Howe.' To 
him, therefore, all other inventors or 
improvers had to pay tribute. From 
being a poor man, Howe became, in a 
few years, one of the most noted mil- 
lionaires in America ; and his bust, exe- 
cuted by Ellis, shows a man of marked 
personal appearance and striking natural 
endowments. 



INVENTION" OF THE SEWING-MACHINE. 



335 



But here the very singular circumstances 
relating to the alleged priority of Mr. 
Walter Hunt's invention, as described, by 
a graphic and well-informed writer in the 
New York Galaxy, — showing how preca- 
rious, at best, is the basis upon which 
even the most impartial of legal conclu- 
sions are arrived at, — may well be pre- 
sented, as exhibiting the trials of inventors 
and public benefactors : It was between 
the years 1832 and 1834, that Mr. Hunt, 
in his own workshop in T^jnos street, New 
York city, invented, built, and put into 
full and effective operation a machine for 
sewing, stitching, and seaming cloth. 
This first machine was made principally 
by the inventor's own hands. It was the 
pioneer sewing-machine of America, and 
the first really successful one of the world. 
There had already been a French inven- 
tion, a tambour machine for ornamenting 
gloves; but it was of very little general 
utility. These machines of Walter Hunt 
all contained the invention of the curved 
needle with the eye near the jjoint, the 
shuttle and their combination, and they 
originated the famous interlocked stitch 
with two threads. Many samples of cloth 
were perfectly sewn by these machines, 
and many of the friends and neighbors of 
the inventor came to see them work. At 
length, one G. A. Arrowsmith was so well 
satisfied with the working of the machines, 
that he bought them, in 1834, and there- 
with the right to obtain letters-patent. 
But no sooner had Arrowsmith got this 
right, than he became impressed both with 
the vastness of the undertaking and with 
the prejudice which any scheme appar- 
ently tending to impoverish poor seam- 
stresses would awaken. At the same time 
he became involved in pecuniary disaster, 
and for years did nothing with the 
machine. Fortunately for Mr. Hunt's 
fame, many persons had seen his machines 
work, and had seen them sew a good, 
strong and handsome stitch, and form 
seams better than hand-sewing. Of these, 
no less than six directly testified to this 
fact in a suit afterward brought, and 
established the fact bej-ond question that 



Walter Hunt invented the first sewing- 
machine, and that it contained the curved, 
eye-pointed needle at the end of a vibrat- 
ing arm with a shuttle. The case itself 
was decided upon another point. These 
afiidavits are still in existence. But this 
was not all. Fifteen j-ears after he had 
sold his machines to Arrowsmith, who lost 
a fortune and a name in not devoting him- 
self to their reproduction, Walter Hunt 
from memory gave a sworn written de- 
scription of his first machine in every part, 
and, to clinch the matter, afterward con- 
structed a machine from that description, 
which was the counterpart of the machine 
of 1834, and worked perfectly. Finally, 
one of the original machines sold to Arrow- 
smith in 1834, was and is, still preserved, 
though in a dilapidated condition. Walter 
Hunt then undertook to make a new 
sewing-machine, which should be an ojjer- 
ative instrument, and should contain 
all the parts which were preserved of 
the old machine, with such others as were 
necessary to present the machine in the 
same shape that the original one pos- 
sessed. He did this successfully, and 
the restored machine, still operative and 
ready to sew good, strong seams, is yet in 
existence. 

Without drawing further, however, from 
this curiously interesting chapter in the 
history of the machine, involving a ques- 
tion of the deepest interest to inventors, 
it is time to describe the instrument — its 
parts and peculiar features, and modus 
operandi, — invented bj' Mr. Howe, and 
which transformed him from an obscure 
and struggling mechanic to one of the 
foremost manufacturers and millionaires 
in America Seating ourselves therefore 
before this wonderful elaboration of artis- 
tic genius and skill, as it has come fresh 
from the hands of the toilsome but at last 
successful inventor, and witnessing its 
weird and agile movement while its enthu- 
siastic proprietor essaj's to sew a seam, we 
find that two threads are employed, one of 
which is carried through the cloth by 
means of a curved needle, the pointed end 
of which passes through the cloth; the 



S36 



l^vYEKTlON OF THE SEWING-MACHINE, 






l^^^ssf^i"^ 



S:5;aR.-^;. 



i 




Tas ouo Joa> scv: ^cvtsti isY bjlxp ax» NjicaixE. 



&e«dl« a$«d has the eT« that is to reoeire 
:h« thr«atl vithin » small distaiM«^ say an 
eighth of aa ineh, d its initer or pointed 
end, th9 other or outer end of the needle 
tving held hr an arm that Tibtates on a 
• -Toi or pint pin, the nuratoie of the 
•^g such ais lo correispond with 
-.- ^... oi the arm a$ i:s radius. 

When the thread is c^uried through the 
cloth, vhieh maj he done to the distance 
of about three-fourths of an inch, the thread 
■srill be stretched above the curved needle, 
^ • :2ing in the manner of a K>vrsrring. 

- •■ -g a smaQ open space between the 
tTO. A small shuttle, carrying a bobbin 
iaed tr::h silk or thread, is then made to 
ii*s enrirelT through this open space, 
t>etve«n the needle and the thread irhich 
-rries ; and when the shuttle is re- 
: : , i. -which is doae by means of a picker 
sraf or shuttle-driver, the thread which 
■was carried in by the needle is surrounded 
'■ T rbss received from the shuttle ; as the 
is drawn out, it forces that which 

.-- received from the shuttle into the 
': •,>iy of the cloth ; and as this operation 
is repeated, a seam is formed which has on 



each side c>f the cloth the same appearance 
as that given by stitching, -with tliis j^ecu- 
liarity. that the thread sewn on ore side 
of the cloth is exclusively that which was 
given out by the needle, and the threavi 
seen oa the other side is exclusively that 
which was given out by the shuttle. 

Thus, according to this arrangement, a 
stitch is made at every back and forth 
movement of the shuttle. The two thick- 
nesses of cloth that are to be sewed, are 
held upon pointed wires, which project out 
frv>m a metallic plate, like the teeth of a 
comb, but at a considerable distance from 
each other,— rsay three-fourths of an inch, 
more or less, — these pointed wires sustain- 
ing the cloth, and answering the pu»-pose of 
ordinstfy basting. The metallic plate from 
which these wires project has numerous 
hcJes through it, which answer the purpose 
of rack teeth in enabling the plate to move 
forward, by means of a pinion, as the 
stitches are taken. The distance to which 
the said plate is moved, and, consequently, 
the length of the stitches, may be regu- 
lated at pleasure. 

One of the moet formidable of Mr. 



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OFTHK 



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erf 




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iaiivoe. 



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ttwrnewt 






i.d ds't^ 



"r and •fibe aiiejwdwtti. It 



73ie apisasKiK Isad ^te ^gpy^as- 



IhsA ^be loose Jw 
t '% rf iJte dot- 

■fibs ^bep a^ 

ci«!a. tried &e vauiMmfL. latai. erred $t* 'Smss opfSBoA "t* lie tm^ a ewaij' ■ t 



ut taie SBa':;lu&e "was a t«* jieaaK, ous j«r TaK mus'-. •uit v-iir; 
a »ovt»^ I'^fe. 



Br ■ebrv' 



n 



338 



INVENTION OF THE SEWING-MACHINE. 



could change her foot to the other pedal, 
open the melodeon part, and discourse 
music! The 'rotating liook' and feeding 
apparatus of the Wilson machine consti- 
tute an admirable feature ; and the same 
may be said of the Grover & Baker or 
'double loop' stitch. 

Though at first looked upon as of doubt- 
ful utility, the value of the sewing-machine 
was in a short time abundantly demon- 
strated. Curiosity and doubt were suc- 
ceeded by admiration, and soon the demand 
became extensive both at home and abroad, 
until, at the present time, the annual pro- 
duction of machines is thought to approx- 
imate to half a million. Active minds 
were also not slow to devise what they 
deemed to be improvements in the ma- 
chine and its appurtenances ; and to this 
end, the number of patent-claims filed up 
to the present time does not vary much 
from one thousand, though only an 
extremely small proportion of these are of 
any really practical importance. 

Such a revolution in the processes and 
results of national industry as that effected 
by this machine could have entered into 
no man's mind^not even the mind of one 
given to the wildest romancing. Thus, in 
the brief period of some dozen years 
merely, from the time of the introduction 
of the machine to the public, the value 
and practical results of the invention may 
be understood from the following facts, 
which appeared in evidence in the contest 
before the commissioner of patents, for the 
extension of Howe's patent — namely : 

At that time, the amount of the boot and 
shoe business of Massachusetts was fifty- 
five million dollars annually, and of this 
amount, the ladies' and misses' gaiter- 
boots and shoes involved one-half. About 
one-eleventh of the sum total above named 
was paid for sewing labor. From this 
proportion it appeared that the annual 
expenditure for sewing upon ladies' and 
misses' gaiter-boots and shoes was two and 
a half million dollars, and that it would 
have cost four times as much if done by 
hand, — so that the saving in a single year, 
in one state, by this invention, in the man- 



ufacture of one special article only, was 
nearly eight million dollars. 

Similarly conclusive evidence was given 
in regard to the making of shirts, by an 
extensive manufacturer in Connecticut, 
who stated that his factorj^ turned out 
about eight hundred dozen per week ; that 
he used four hundred sewing-machines, 
and that one machine, with an attendant, 
would do the work of five hand-sewers at 
least, and do it better. He paid, at least, 
four dollars per week ; but, reckoning it 
at three dollars, — the old price for sewing 
before machines were introduced, — it 
showed a saving, in this single manufac- 
tory, of two hundred and forty thousand 
dollars. Allowing, then, the males of the 
United States, at that time, to wear out 
two shirts a j'ear apiece, a proportional 
saving would amount to the large sum of 
between eleven and twelve million dollars 
annually, in making the single article of 
shirts. 

Another witness, representing the firm 
of Brooks Brothers, of New York city, 
manufacturers of clothing, stated that that 
house alone did a business, at the period 
named, of over a million dollars annually, 
using twenty machines in the store, 
besides patronizing those that others used, 
and doing about three-fourths of all their 
sewing by machines, and paying annually 
for sewing labor about two hundred thou- 
sand dollars; seventy-five thousand dollars 
of this was saved by machines, — that is, 
the machines saved seventy-five thousand 
dollars on every two hundred thousand 
paid for sewing labor. But the great 
manufactures of this house did not consti- 
tute, at most, hut one-hundredth part of 
the machine-made clothing produced in 
that city ; which fact, putting the propor- 
tion at one-hundredth part, made the busi- 
ness of manufacturing machine clothing in 
the city of New York one hundred million 
dollars per annum ; and thus, at the rate 
paid by that house for sewing, it brought 
the cost of sewing in that branch of the 
business in that city, — even with the 
assistance of the sewing-machines, — up to 
twenty million dollars. Applying the 



INVENTION OF THE SEWING-MACHINE. 



889 



same ratio to the estimated amount of this 
branch of business in the United States, 
the total would reach the sum of seventy- 
five million dollars. All this, be it remena- 



bered, was in the comparative infancy of 
the machine. Its pecuniary importance, 
as a labor agent, is now estimated to reach 
$500,000,000 annually. 



XLIl. 



SPIRITUAL KNOCKIJ^GS AND TABLE-TIPPINGS.-184T. 



Familiar Intercourse Claimed to be Opened between Human and Disembodied Being9.-A leged Reve- 
lations from the Unseen World.-Singular and Humble Origin, in a Secluded N. Y. Village, of this 
Great Modern Wonder.-Its Development among All Nations in All Lands.-Astonishing and 
Inexplicable Character of the Manifestations.-First Rappings in HydesviUe, N. Y.-Time, Manner, 
Circumstances.-A Murdered Man's Spirit -How the Mystery was Solved.-Rappings, the Spirit 
Lan-ua<^e -Its Interpretation Discovered.-Two Young Girls the " Mediums."-Their Haras.ed 
Experience -Public Ettbrts to Sift the Matter -No Clue to any Deception.— The Family go to 
Rochester.-Knockings Accompany Them.-New Forms of " Manifestations."-Many Mediums 
Spring Up.-Things Strange and Startling.-Univeraal Wonder Excited.-Theories of Explanation. 
—Investigations and Reports.- Views of Agassiz, Herschel, Etc.— Press and Pulpit Discussions.— 
Different Opinions as to the Tendency of the Phenomena —Thirty Years' History. 



"1 cannot diflpo3e of another man'j facta, nor allow him to dispose of mine."— Emeesoit. 




OCHESTER, K Y., one of the most 
beautiful and thriving of Ameri- 
can inland cities, has long borne 
the celebrity which attaches to 
what are now known, the world 
over, as " spiritual manifesta- 
tions," — knockings, rappings, ta- 
ble-movings, spirit communica- 
HoosE IN WHICH SPIRITUAL RAPPINGS oKionfATED. tions, and the like. But, in 

reality, to the secluded and unambitious village of HydesviUe, in the town of 
Arcadia, Wayne county, N. Y., belongs the pre-eminent distinction of being the place 
where originated, in a manner most castial, and seemingly insignificant for the time, 
in respect to duration or results, this most mysterious, wonderful, and wide-spread 
physico-psj'chological phenomenon since the world began. It was from Hj'desville that 
these manifestations were introduced — so to speak — in the city first named, and where, 
by the great notoriety which soon characterized them, they came to be known, 
universally, as the " Rochester Knockings." 

The starting i^oint of all, in the history of tliis astonishing movement — one which 
has extended to the remotest bounds of the known world, which has challenged the 
scrutiny and excited the wonder of monarchs, snvavfs, popes, philosophers, divines, 
councils and synods, — is the humble house in HydesviUe, occupied, in 1847, by Mr. 
Michael Weekman, who, at different times that year, heard rappings upon his door. 



SPIRITUAL KNOCKINGS AIiT> TABLE-TIPPINGS. 



341 



but on every occasion failed to discover 
any person present, or any producing 
source or cause, notwithstanding the 
most vigilant watch was kept up and the 
most industrious search instituted, by the 
family and neighbors. Under these 
strange and uncomfortable circumstances, 
Mr. Weekman left the premises, which, 
however, were soon tenanted by the family 
of Mr. John D. Fox. But, so far from 
a change of occupants being attended by 
a cessation of the rappings, the very 
reverse was the fact. From March, 1848, 
the house was disturbed, from night to 
night, by the same constantly recurring 
sounds — rappings, tappings, knocks, and 
even shuffling of furniture, — and which 
could not be accounted for on the hypothe- 
sis of natural agency. 

Nor were these knockings now con- 
fined to the door of the house, but per- 
vaded every part, depriving the inmates 
of their regular sleep. In this state of 
wakefulness, and the source of the noises 
appearing to be in close proximity to the 
bed occupied by two of the Fox girls, it is 
related that one of them, some ten or 
eleven years of age, thought she would 
just try the experiment, sportively, of re- 
sponding to the raps bj' as close and 
accurate a repetition of them as was pos- 
sible with her fingers. Her efforts were 
so far successful as to elicit reciprocal 
sounds from the invisible agencj'. In a 
little while, the parties were enabled to 
open a distinct communication, by means 
of the following simple method, and with 
the accompanying results, as narrated by 
the Rev. Mr. Fishbough, an early investi- 
gator of the phenomena. After mutual 
responses had been opened, one of the 
girls said : 

" Now do as I do ; count 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 
6," at the same time striking her hands 
together, the girl acting more in sport, 
than in expectation of what really fol- 
lowed. The same number of raps re- 
sponded, and at similar intervals. The 
mother of the girls then said: "Count 
ten ; " and ten distinct raps were heard ; 
"Count fifteen," and that number of 



sounds followed. She then said, " Tell 
us the age of Cathy (the youngest daugh- 
ter) by rapping one for each year," and 
the number of years was rapped correctly. 
Then, in like manner, the age of each 
of the other children was by request in- 
dicated by this invisible agent. Startled 
and somewhat alarmed by these manifes- 
tations of intelligence, Mrs. Fox asked if 
it was a human being who was making 
that noise, and if it was, to manifest the 
fact by making the same noise. There 
was no sound. She then said, "If you 
are. a sjririt, make two distinct sounds." 
Two raps were accordingly heard. The 
members of the family had by this time 
all left their beds, and the house was again 
thoroughly searched, as it had been be- 
fore, but without discovering anything 
that coidd explain the mystery ; and after 
a few more questions, and responses by 
raps, the neighbors were called in to 
assist in further efforts to trace the phe- 
nomenon to its cause ; but these persons 
were no more successful than the family 
had been, and they confessed themselves 
thoroughly confounded. For several sub- 
sequent days the village was in a turmoil 
of excitement, and multitudes visited the 
house, heard the raps, and interrogated 
the apparent intelligence which controlled 
them, but without obtaining any clue to 
the discovery of the agent, further than 
its own persistent declaration that it was 
a spirit. About three weeks after these 
occurrences, David, a son of Mr. and Mrs. 
Fox, went alone into the cellar where 
the raps were then being heard, and said, 
" If you are the spirit of a human beiriff, 
ivho once lived on the earth, can yoxi rap 
the letters that toill spell your name ? 
and if so, rap now three times." Three 
raps were promptly given, and David pro- 
ceeded to call the alphabet, writing down 
the letters as they were indicated, and the 
result was the name ' Charles B. Rosma,' 
a name quite unknown to the family, and 
which they were afterward unable to 
trace. The statement was in like manner 
obtained from the invisible intelligence, 
that he ivas the spiirit of a peddler who had 



342 



SPIRITUAL KNOCKIKGS AND TABLE-TIPPINGS. 



been murdered in that house some years 
previous. It is said that, at first, the raps 
occurred in the house even when all the 
members of the family were absent, but 
subsequently they occurred only in the 
presence of the two younger daughters, 
Catharine and Margaretta ; and, on the 
family removing, soon after, to the neigh- 
boring city of Eochester, the manifesta- 
tions still accompanied them ; the family 
took up their abode with a married sis- 
ter, Mrs. Fish, who subsequently became 
celebrated as a medium, through whom 
the manifestations were exhibited. 

The original method of communication 
— the spirit language — it would appear, 
consisted in conveying an affirmative by a 




THE MISSES FOX. 



single rap (though perhaps emphasized 
by more), and a negative was indicated by 
silence. Five raps demanded the alpha- 
bet, and this could be called over bj' the 
living voice, or else in a printed form laid 
upon a table, and the finger or a jjencil 
slowly passed along it — when, on arriving 
at the required letter, a rap was heard ; 
the querist then recommenced, until words 
and sentences were spelled out — upon the 
accuracy or intelligence displayed in 
which, depended, in a great degree, the 
amount of faith popularly accorded to the 
manifestations. It was with this key, the 
conception of which as adapted to the 
mastery of the strange phenomenon is 
utterly incomprehensible, that the above 



information was evoked from the mur- 
dered peddler, who also further stated that 
the number of the j-ears of his fleshly pil- 
grimage had been thirty-one ; that he had 
been murdered in that house, and buried 
in the cellar ; and that the murderer was 
alive, as were also the children of Kosma, 
his victim. 

Such revelations as these, which, as 
soon as received bj- the interlocutors, were 
freely given to the world, excited pro- 
digious interest, far and near. The cel- 
lar was dug to a great depth, to discover, 
if possible, some evidence of murder hav- 
ing been committed ; the premises and 
neighborhood examined with great thor- 
oughness ; and inquiries made in all 
directions. But all these efforts 
failed to elicit any disclosure of 
fact or circumstance, bearing in the 
slightest degree upon such a trans- 
action. 

At length, on the fourteenth of 
November, 1849, in accordance, as 
was said, with directions from ' the 
spirits,' a public lecture on the 
origin and character of the mani- 
x\ festations was given in Corinthian 
\ Hall, Eochester, at which the ' me- 
diums ' were present. Manifesta- 
tions were had, and a committee 
was chosen from the audience to 
make thorough examination into 
their nature and origin, and report 
at an adjourned meeting the next even- 
ing. 

Intense interest was felt in regard to 
the result of this committee's proceedings, 
and in due time their report was made to a 
crowded and breathless assembly. In this 
report, the committee stated that they 
had made such investigations as seemed 
necessary and practicable ; that the me- 
diums had apparently afforded every 
facility for the most minute and ample 
examination ; but that they — the com- 
mittee — had utterly failed to discover in 
what manner the mysterious sounds or 
raps were produced, or what was their 
cause or origin, there being no visible 
agency whatever to v/hich, by any process 



SPIEITUAL KNOCKINGS AND TABLE-TIPPINGS. 



345 



of ordinary reasoning, tlie phenomena 
could be attributed. 

Other committees of gentlemen arrived 
at the same conclusion ; whereupon a com- 
mittee of ladies was ajipointed, who took 
the young lady mediums into a private 
room of a hotel to which they were 
strangers, and there disrobed and searched 
them. The mediums were then made to 
stand on pillows, with handkerchiefs tied 
tightly around their ankles. The raps 
were repeated, and intelligent answers to 
unpremeditated questions were rapped in 
the usual way. 

But the manifestations — ' spiritual ' 
manifestations, as they were now, and 
have since continued to be, called — were 
not long confined to the Fox family. In- 
deed, so rapid and wide-spread was the 
development of the phenomena, that, in 




D. D. HOME. 



the short space of two or three years, it 
was calculated that the number of recog- 
nized "media" practicing in various parts 
of the United States, was not less than 
thirty thousand. 

Various theories continued to be pro' 
pounded as from the first, though now 
more learned and scientific, in explanation 
of the moving of tables and other pon- 
derable substances and objects, as well as 
the knockings. Concerning the latter, it 
has been argued that, in spiritualism, it is 
the mind of the person charging the 
medium who exhibits all the intelligence — 
or it maybe some one en rapjjort after the 
medium has been charged to that degree 
that the electricity overflows in raps, and 



these raps are of the same character as 
detonations of electricity when a positive 
and negative cloud meet in mid air and 
produce thunder. 

Another theory of the cause of the rap- 
pings is that of a too great redundancy of 
electricity' congregated upon the involun- 
tary nerves, through passivity of mind, 
and thus imparting to them extraordinary 
force. 

The theorj' presented with such jjhilo- 
sophical ability bj' Professor Mahan, is, 
that there is in nature a power, termed, 
scientifically, the odylic or mesmeric force, 
which is identical with the cause of all the 
mesmeric and clairvoyant phenomena, on 
the one hand, and with the immediate 
cause of these manifestations, on the other ; 
that by reference to the properties and 
laws of this force as developed in the spirit 
circles, and to its relations to the minds 
constituting the same, every kind of spirit 
phenomena can be most fully accounted 
for, without the supposition of the presence 
or agency of disembodied spirits ; and that 
the entire real facts of spiritualism demand 
the supposition that this force, in the pro- 
duction of these communications, is con- 
trolled exclusively, for the most part 
unconsciouslv, by the minds in the circles, 
and not by disembodied spirits out of the 
same. 

As indicating most clearly, according to 
this theor}', the presence ai.d action of an 
invisible but purely physical cause — a 
cause connected with the organism of par- 
ticular individuals, its advocates do not 
hesitate to cite all the various wonders of 
spiritual manifestation, whether mental or 
material, not excepting the astonishing 
occurrences which transpired in Stamford, 
Conn., in 1S50, and which made the name 
of the occupant of the house, Eev. Dr. 
Phelps, for a long time so famous through- 
out the land. In this case, the phenomena 
consisted in the moving of articles of fur- 
niture in a manner not only unaccounta- 
ble, but baffling all description. 

By Professor Agassiz, the knockings 
and rappings were, from the very first, 
pronounced a delusion ; an opinion shared. 



314 



SPIEITUAL KNOCKINGS AND TABLE-TIPPINGS. 



perhaps, by the whole body of learned 
men in the country. Professor Paraday, 
of England, claimed to demonstrate that it 
is by physical power, and not by any mag- 
netic fluid, that tables move on being 
pressed by the fingers. Herschel sug- 
gested that there might be a fluid which 
served to convey the orders of the brain to 
the muscles. 

Suffice it to add, that, as no authority 
in respect to these phenomena is held in 
higher repute among the disciples of the 
new system, than that of Mr. Andrew 
Jackson Davis, the Poughkeepsie seer, his 
opinion that the producing agencies, in the 
moving of tables and other inorganic sub- 
stances bj^ spirits, are terrestrial magnet- 
ism and electricitj', may be cited as rep- 
resenting the views of a large portion, 
probably, of the spiritualists in this 
countrj'. 

The variety of phenomena known by the 
general term of ' spiritual manifestations,' 
is very numerous. Some of the principal, 
as enumerated by Mr. Ballon under five 
several distinctions, and which is perhaps 
as fair and complete an exposition as the 
literature of spiritualism affords, are the 
following : — 

First — making peculiar noises, indica- 
tive of more or less intelligence, such as 
knockings, rappings, jarrings, creakings, 
tickings, imitation of many sounds known 
in the different vicissitudes of human life, 
musical intonations, and, in rare instances, 
articulate speech. Some of these various 
sounds are very loud, distinct, and forcible ; 
others are low, less distinct, and more 
gentle, but all audible realities. 

Second — the moving of material sub- 
stances, with like indications of intelli- 
gence, such as tables, sofas, light-stands, 
chairs, and various other articles, shaking, 
tipping, sliding, raising them clear of the 
floor, placing them in new positions, (all 
this sometimes in spite of athletic and 
heavy men doing their utmost to hold 
them down ;) taking up the passive body of 
a person, and carrying it from one position 
to another across the room, through mid- 
air ; opening and shutting doors ; thrum- 



ming musical instruments ; undoing well- 
clasped pocket-books, taking out their 
contents, and then, by request, rejalacing 
them again ; writing with pens, pencils, 
and other substances, both liquid and solid 
— sometimes on paper, sometimes on com- 
mon slates, and sometimes on the ceilings 
of a room, etc. 

Third — causing catalepsy, trance, clair- 
voyance, and various involuntary muscu- 
lar, nervous, and mental activity in medi- 
ums, independent of any will or conscious 
psychological influence by men in the flesh, 
and then through such mediums, speak- 
ing, writing, preaching, lecturing, philoso- 
j)hizing, jsrophesj-ing, etc. 

Fourth — presenting apparitions: in 
some instances, of a spirit hand and arm ; 
in others, of the whole human form ; and 
in others, of several deceased persons con- 
versing together ; causing distinct touches 
to be felt by the mortal living, grasping 
and shaking their hands, and giving many 
other sensible demonstrations of their 
existence. 

Fifth — through these various manifes- 
tations communicating to men in the flesh 
numberless affectionate and intelligent 
assurances of an immortal existence, mes- 
sages of consolation, and annunciations of 
distant events unknown at the time, but 
subsequently corroborated ; predictions of 
forthcoming occurrences subsequently ver- 
ified, forewarnings against impending 
danger, medicinal prescriptions of great 
efficacy, wholesome reproofs, admonitions, 
and counsels, expositions of spiritual, theo- 
logical, religious, moral, and philosophical 
truths appertaining to the present and 
future states, and important to human wel- 
fare in every sphere of existence, some- 
times comprised in a single sentence, and 
sometimes in an ample book. 

It is taught by writers on spiritualism, 
that it is a r/rancl religious reformation, 
designed and destined to correct theologi- 
cal errors, to remove sectarian barriers, 
and to excite more warmly the religious 
element among mankind. This claim is 
denied bj' those opposed to the movement, 
who charge it as aiming, or tending, to do 



SPIEITUAL KNOCKINGS AND TABLE-TIPPINGS. 



345 



awa_y with the Bible, to overthrow Chris- 
tianity, and destroy the Churcli and its 
institutions, — indeed, to brealc up the 
whole frame-work of society as at present 
constituted. The discussion has engaged, 
in the press and pulpit, and on either side, 
the profoundest adepts in theologj*, science, 
and philosophy ; and, though none dispute 
that fraud and imposture have played their 



their own thoughts, without any knowl- 
edge at the time, on his part, of either 
ideas or subject ; the hand-writing of each 
was unlike that of the other, and, though 
both were written by Dr. Dexter's hand, 
they were both wholly unlike his, and this 
characterized the whole of the volumin- 
ous communications, according to these 
authors' statement. 




CORA L. V. HATCH. 



A. J. PAVIS. 



JUDGE EDMONDS. 



part, in multitudes of instances, in con- 
nection with the matter, it is admitted 
that the phenomena, under reputable 
auspices, exhibit great, novel, and aston- 
ishing facts. 

Since the initiation of the movement, or 
phenomena, in 1847, by the Misses Fox, 
the most distinguished mediums have been 
A. J. Davis, D. D. Home, Mrs. Cora L. V. 
Hatch, etc., etc. ; the most widely cele- 
brated authors, A. J. Davis, Judge Ed- 
monds, and George T. Dexter, Adin Ballon, 
and some others. The learned work bear- 
ing the joint authorship of Judge Ed- 




monds and Dr. Dexter is generally pro- 
nounced one of the ablest productions, 
devoted to the philosophy of these modern 
wonders. A notable feature in the con- 
tents of this work are the alleged communi- 
cations received from Swedenborg and Lord 
Bacon, written, in their own hand-writing, 
from the spirit world, — they using Dr. 
Dexter's hand as the instrument to convey 



The different kinds of mediums are 
classified, by Judge Edmonds, into those 
who disturb the equanimity of material 
objects, without any intelligence being 
necessarily or usually communicated 
through them, for the purpose of address- 
ing to the human senses the idea of a 
physical communion with a power out of 
and bej-ond mere mortal agency; con- 
nected with this class, though with the 
addition of an intelligent communion 
between the mortal and the invisible 
power, are the mediums for table-tippings; 
another class consists of those who write, 




their hands being affected by a power 
manifestly beyond their own control, and 
not emanating from or governed by their 
own will ; a fourth species are speaking 
mediums, some of whom speak when in 
the trance state, and some when in their 



346 



SPIRITUAL KNOCKINGS AND TABLE-TIPPINGS. 



normal or natural condition, in which 
cases the invisible, intelligence seems to 
take possession of the mind of the medium, 
and compel the utterance of its ideas, 
sometimes in defiance of the will of the 
mortal through whom it is talking ; 
impressible mediums are those who re- 
ceive impressions in their minds to 
which they give utterance, either by 
writing or speaking, their faculties be- 
ing entirely under their own control; still 
another class are those who see, or seem 



to see, the objects presented to their cou- 
sideration. 

In all the nations of Europe, Asia, and 
Africa, the phenomena of spiritualism 
have become widely prevalent ; and, only 
ten years subsequent to the first develop- 
ment, its newspapers estimated the number 
of its avowed adherents at one and a half 
million, with one thousand public advo- 
cates, forty thousand public and private 
mediums, and a literature of five hundred 
different works. 



XLIII. 

GENERAL SCOTT IN THE HALLS OF THE MONTEZU- 
MAS, AS THE CONQUEROR OF MEXICO.— 1847. 



General Taylor's Unbroken Series of Victorious Battles, from Palo Alto to Buena Vista. — Flight of 
Santa Anna in the Dead of Midnight. — The Stars and Stripes Float Triumphantly frona the Towers 
of the National Palace. — First Foreign Capital Ever Occupied by the United States Army. — Peace 
on the Invaders' Own Terms. — Original Irritation between the Two Powers. — Disputed Points of 
Boundary. — Me.\ico Refuses to Yield. — General Taylor Sent to tlie Rio Grande — A Speedy Collision. 
— Declaration of War by Congress. — Santa Anna Leads the Mexicans. — Battles of Palo Alto and 
Resaca de la Palma. — Raging Fight at Monterey : Its Fall. — Santa Anna's Warlike Summons — It is 
Treated with Contempt. — His Awful Defeat at Buena Vista — Doniphan's March of Five Thousand 
Miles — Vera Cruz, Cerro Gordo, Contreras, Cliurubusco, etc — Scott's Order, "On to Mexico!" — 
Huzzas and a Quickstep.— Terrific Storming of Chapultepec. — Scott Holds the Key to Mexico. — 
The Last Obstacle Overcome. — Grand Entrance of the Victors. — Territorial Gain to the United States. 



" Under the favor of Ood. the valor of this armv. after many elorlous victories, has hoisted the flag of our country in Uie Capital of Mex- 
ico, and on the Palace of its Ooveromeal."— Gknebal Scott to ho Army, Slptember 14th. 







_2^i«Ps STORMING OF CHArt^LTEriiC. 

^ . . ^^ 

Y}j, IIIEFLY, if not solely, owing ^-^ 
to the annexation of Texas - y£^ 
to the United States, war broke out between "'^ 
this country and Mexico, in 1S46, under proc- 
lamation by President Polk, in pursuance of formal declar- 
ation of hostilities in May of that year, promulgated by 
congress. Claiming Texas as a portion of its own domain, 
Mexico had sturdily resisted its separation from her con- 
trol, either as an independent power, or as a portion of the 
United States. But, being forced, finally, to yield these points, 
fresh troubles soon succeeded, arising from the disputed question of <\ *' 
boundary. Mexico claimed to the Neuces, and the United States '''\J-Z- 
to the Rio Grande del Norte. Santa Anna, then at the head of « j 
Mexican affairs, insisted on tha visrorous assertion of Mexico's '■ 




348 GENERAL SCOTT IN THE HALLS OF THE MONTEZUMAS. 



claims, and military force was brought into 
requisition to this end. It was this pro- 
ceeding, as alleged, that induced counter 
military movements on the part of the 
United States, under the lead of General 
Taylor, and in a short time collision and 
open war followed, the belligerents putting 
their best armies and ofl&cers into the field, 
the contest finally culminating in the occu- 
pancy of the Mexican capital ■ by a victori- 
ous army under General Scott, and in the 
signing of a treaty by which the United 
States came into possession — for a mere 
nominal pecuniary equivalent — of the 
whole of Texas, New Mexico, and Upper 
California. 

The principal battles and other military 
movements which rendered this conflict 
memorable, were the siege of Fort Brown, 




the battles of Palo Alto and Eesaca de la 
Palma, the fall of Monterey, the battle of 
Buena Vista, Doniphan's expedition to 
Chihuahua and march of five thousand 
miles, the reduction of Vera Cruz, the bat- 
tles of Cerro Gordo, Contreras, and Chu- 
rubusco, the storming of Chapultepec, and 
the entrance of Scott into the halls of 
the Montezumas, as the conqueror of the 
enemy's chief city, — the first instance of a 
foreign capital heinr/ entered hy the army 
of the United States. The latter event, 
and the battle of Buena Vista, formed the 
most important movements during the 
campaign, and have earned a conspicuous 



place — as have also their heroes, Taylor, 
and Scott, — in American military histor3-. 
It was on the twenty-second of February, 
1847, that Taylor made those final dispo- 
sitions of his troops that ended in the fa- 
mous victory of Buena Vista, and which, 
in the brief lapse of three years thereafter, 
carried the victor to the presidential chair, 
as chief magistrate of the United States. 

The first evidence directly afforded the 
United States troops of the presence of 
Santa Anna, was a white flag, dimly seen 
fluttering in the breeze, and which proved, 
on the arrival of its bearer, to be what the 
Americans ironically termed a benevolent 
missive from Santa Anna, proposing to 
General Taylor terms of unconditional sur- 
render ; promising good treatment ; stat- 
ing that his force amounted to twenty 
thousand men ; that the defeat of the 
invaders was inevitable, and that, to 
spare the effusion of blood, his propo- 
sition should be comjilied with. 

But, strange to say, the American 
general showed the greatest ingrati- 
tude ; evinced no appreciation what- 
ever of Santa Anna's kindness, and 
informed him, substantially, that 
whether his force amounted to twenty 
thousand or fifty thousand, it was 
equally a matter of indifference — the 
terms of adjustment must he ai'- 
ranged hy gunpou'der. Santa Anna's 
rage at this response to his conceited 
summons was at the boiling point. 
Skirmishing continued until night- 
fall, and was renewed at an early hour the 
next morning, the struggle deepening in in- 
tensity as the day advanced, imtil the battle 
raged with great fury along the entire line. 
After various successes and reverses, the 
fortunes of the daj' showed on the side of 
the Americans. Santa Anna saw the 
crisis, and true to his instincts, sought to 
avert the result by craft and cunning. He 
sent a white flag to General Taylor, in- 
quiring, in substance, " what he wanted." 
This was at once believed to be a mere 
rnse to gain time and re-collect his men ; 
but the American general thought fit to 
notice it, and General Wool was deputed 



GENERAL SCOTT IN THE HALLS OF THE MONTEZUMAS. 349 



to meet the representative of Santa Anna, 
and to sa3' to him that what was " wanted " 
was peace. Before the interview could be 
had, the Mexicans treacherously re-opened 
their fires. The flag, however, had accom- 




plished the ends which its wily originator 
designed — a re-enforcement of his cavalry 
during the parley, — and, with his courage 
thus restored, he determined to charge 
Taylor's line. Under cover of their artil- 
lery, horse and foot advanced upon the 
American batteries, the latter, against all 
disadvantages, nobly maintaining their po- 
sitions, by the most brilliant and daring 
efforts. Such was the rapidity of their 
transitions that officers and pieces seemed 
empowered with ubiquity, and upon cav- 
alry and infantry alike, wherever they 
appeared, they poured so destructive a fire 
as to silence the enemy's artillerj', compel 
his whole line to fall back, and soon to 
assume a sort of subdued movement, indi- 
cating anything but victorj'. 

Again, the spirits of Taj'lor's troops rose 
high. The Mexicans appeared thoroughly 
routed; and while their regiments and 
divisions were flying in dismay, nearly all 
the American light troops were ordered 
forward, and followed them with a most 
terrible fire, mingled with shouts which 
rose above the roar of artillery. The pur- 
suit, however, was too hot, and, as it 
evinced, too clearly, the smallness of the 
pursuing force, the Mexicans, with a sud- 



denness which was almost magical, rallied, 
and turned back with furious onset. They 
came in myriads, and for a while the car- 
nage was dreatlful on both sides, though 
there was but a handful to oppose to the 
frightful masses so rapidly hurled into the 
combat, and which could no more be re- 
sisted than could an avalanche of thunder- 
bolts. " All ix lost ! " was the cry — or at 
least the thought — of many a brave Amer- 
ican, at this crisis. 

Thrice during the day, when all seemed 
lost but honor, did the artillery, b_y the 
ability with which it was maneuvered, roll 
back the tide of success from the enemy, 
and give such overwhelming destructive- 
ness to its effect, that the army was saved 
and the glory of the American arms main- 
tained. 

The battle had now raged with variable 
success for nearly ten hours, and, by a sort 
of mutual consent, after the last carnage 
wrought among the Mexicans bj' the artil- 
lery, both parties seemed willing to pause 
upon the result. Night fell. Santa Anna 
had been repulsed at all points ; and ere 
the sun rose again upon the scene, the 
Mexicans had disappeared, leaving behind 
them only the hundreds of their dead and 
dying, whose bones were to whiten their 
native hills. The loss was great on both 
sides, in this long, desperate, and sanguin- 
ary conflict, the force of the Mexicans be- 
ing as five to one of the Americans. 

Santa Anna was bold and persevering, 
and turned Taylor's left flank by the 
mountain paths with a large force, when 
all seemed to be lost. But the light artil- 
lery and the mounted men saved the day. 
Tliroughout the action General Taylor was 
where shots fell hottest and thickest, two 
of which passed through his clothes. He 
constantly evinced the greatest quickness 
of perception, fertility of resource, and a 
cool, unerring judgment not to be baffled. 

One of the bravest deeds of this struggle 
was that performed by Major Dix, who, 
when the air was rent with shouts of 
triumph from the enemy, over the inglori- 
ous flight of an Indiana regiment, dashed 
off in pursuit of the deserters, and seizing 



350 GENERAL SCOTT IN THE HALLS OF THE MONTEZUMAS. 



the colors of the regiment as he reached 
them, appealed to the men to know 
whether they had determined tliiis to turn 
their backs upon their country ! He was 
answered by three cheers. A portion of 
the regiment immediately rallied around 
him, and was reformed by the officers. 
Dix, in person, then led them towards the 
enemy, until one of the men volunteered 
to take the flag. 

Admiration and honor were showered 
upon Taylor, who had thus, with his little 
army of between four and five thousand 
men, met and completely vanquished 
Santa Anna, the greatest of Mexican sol- 




diers, with his army of twenty thousand. 
It was a contest which, with his other vic- 
torious battles at Palo Alto, Resaca de la 
Palma, and Monterey, covered the hitherto 
almost unknown name of Taylor with a 
halo of glory from one end of the land to 
the other; gave immense prestige to 
American arms ; and created, perhaps too 
largely, the feeling that the conquering 
party might now go on and overrun the 
country, and dictate its own terms of peace. 
But there were strong positions j'et to be 
mastered, and gory fields yet to be won, 
before that most of all coveted achieve- 
ment — the capture and occupation of the 
Mexican capital — was to crown the suc- 



cesses of the invaders and prove that the 
enemy's country was at their mercy. 

As events proved, the last named great 
act in this military drama was reserved 
for General Scott, who had been appointed 
by the government at Washington, su- 
preme commander of the army in Mexico. 
Taylor had led the way, by his splendid 
movements and victories, for the accom- 
plishment of all that yet remained to be 
done. Vera Cruz, the key to the Mexican 
capital, with the almost imjiregnable fort- 
ress of San Juan de Ulloa, soon fell into 
the hands of the Americans, after a terri- 
bly destructive cannonade. A similar fate 
befell nearly all the principal ports. 
Again was Santa Anna defeated on 
the embattled heights of Cerro 
Gordo, in which tremendous strong- 
hold he had attempted with fifteen 
thousand men, but in vain, to op- 
pose Scott, who had only six thou- 
sand. To this succeeded the battle 
^ of Contreras, in which the Mexi- 

cans, led by General Valencia, who 
had an army of some eight thou- 
sand, were routed with terrible 
slaughter, by Gen. P. E. Smith. 
In a few months from this time, 
the plains of Churubusco witnessed 
another battle, the deadly carnage 
and mortal results of which, no 
pen could adequately portray, the 
Americans taking possession of 
every point, as triumphant victors. 
The prize was not 3'et won, but orders 
were in due time given by General Scott 
to march to the capital. Deafening cheers 
and a quirkstej) greeted this order, on its 
proinulgation. Two strong positions of 
the enemy were, however, yet to be over- 
come, namely, that of Molino del Rey, and 
the strong castle of Chapultepec, before 
the city could be reached. The first- 
named was captured by General Worth, 
after a most bloody fight, and with the 
loss of nearly one-fourth of his men, the 
latter having at last found it necessary to 
burst open an entrance, and with the bay- 
onet to meet the enemy hand to hand. 
New and more terrible struggles were 



GENERAL SCOTT IN THE HALLS OF THE MONTEZUMAS. 351 



soon to take place. On tlie eleventh of 
September, the cavalry were ordered to 
make a movement on the sloping jjlains 
above Chapulteisec and Tacubaya, and 
attack, if possible, the latter place. How- 
ever, the enemy kept a diligent look-out, 
and no sooner did the cavalry begin to 
move out of town than their scouts ap- 
peared upon the spot, and, soon after, a 
small force appeared to dispute the ap- 
proach. 

On the twelfth, the cannon began to 
roar again, south and west, at the garita 
of San Antonio and Chapultepec, but it 
soon became evident to them where the 
real attack was intended, for on the south 
side the fire was slackened, and after a 




/i/^U^^-OC-^^ 




% 



time it left off altogether — while, on the 
west it grew more and more violent, until, 
at about eight o'clock, the Americans 
opened their battery of mortars upon the 
castle, and began to throw shell with terri- 
ble precision. 

General Pillow's approach, on the west 
side, lay through an open grove, filled with 
sharpshooters, who were speedily dis- 
lodged ; when, being up with the front of 
the attack, and emerging into open space, 
at the foot of a rocky acclivity, that gal- 
lant leader was struck down by an agoniz- 
ing wound. The broken acclivity was still 
to be ascended, and a strong redoubt, 
midway, to be carried, before reaching the 
castle on the heights. The advance of the 



brave men, led by brave officers, though 
necessarily slow, was unwavering, over 
rocks, chasms, and mines, and under the 
hottest fire of cannon and musketr3'. The 
redoubt now yielded to resistless valor. 

Shout after shout rung wildly through 
the victorious ranks of the assailants, 
announcing to the castle the fate that 
impended. The Mexicans were steadily 
driven from shelter to shelter. The re- 
treat allowed no time to fire a single mine, 
without the certainty of blowing up friend 
and foe. Those who, at a distance, at- 
tempted to apply matches to the long 
trains, were shot down by the Americans. 
There was death below as well as above 
ground. At length the ditch and wall of 
the main work were reached, and the 
scaling-ladders were brought \\\> and 
planted by the storming parties. Some of 
the daring spirits in the assault were cast 
down, killed or wounded ; but a lodgment 
was soon made, streams of heroes followed, 
all opposition was overcome, and several of 
the regimental colors were flung out from 
the upper walls, amid long continued 
shouts and cheers. All this sent dismay 
into the capital. To the Americans, no 
scene could have been, more animating or 
glorious. 

General Quitman performed a distin- 
guished part in these movements, nobly 
sustained by his officers and men. 
Simultaneously with the movement on 
the west, he gallantly approached the 
south-east of the same works over a cause- 
way with cuts and batteries, and defended 
by an army strongly posted outside, to the 
east of the works. These formidable 
obstacles had to be faced, with but little 
shelter for troops or space for maneuvering. 
Deep ditches, flanking the causeway, 
made it difficult to cross on either side into 
the adjoining meadows ; and these, again, 
were intersected by other ditches. The 
storming party, however, carried two 
batteries that were in the road, took some 
guns, with many prisoners, and drove the 
enemy posted behind in support ; they 
then crossed the meadows in front, under 
a heavy fire, and entered the outer 



3fi2 GENERAL SCOTT IN THE HALLS OF THE MONTEZUMAS. 




GENERAL SCOTT IN THE HALLS OF THE MONTEZUMAS. 



;53 



inclosure of Chapultepec just in time to 
join ill the final assault from the west. 
Captain Barnard, of the voltgeur regiment, 
was the first to plant a regimental color. 

During the period covered by these 
exciting scenes, the firing in and about 
the castle had three times apparently 
reached its crisis or climax, and then 
suddenly slackened, inducing the belief in 
some quarters that the assault had been 
beaten off; but, at about half-past nine 
o'clock the Mexican flag suddenly disap- 
peared, a blue flag was shown, and directly 
after the stars and stripes arose and waved 
over the conquered fortress. Immediately 
after having taken the place, the Americans 
hauled down the light field-pieces from the 
castle, and fired them upon the retreating 
enemy, ujjon whose heels they closely 
followed. The firing came nearer, and at 
about two o'clock in the afternoon, the 
innermost intrenchments began to open 
their fire, and balls to whistle in the town. 

It was not long before the forces of 
Worth and Quitman — the former proceed- 
ing by the San Cosme aqueduct, and the 
latter along that of Belen. Scott joined 
the advance of Worth, within the suburb, 
and beyond the turn at the junction of the 
aqueduct with the great highway from the 
west to the gate of San Cosme. In a short 
time, the troops were engaged in a street 
fight against the Mexicans posted in 
gardens, at windows, and on housetops — 
all flat, with parapets. Worth ordered 
forward the mountain howitzers of 
Cadwallader's brigade, preceded by skir- 
mishers and pioneers, with pickaxes and 
crowbars, to force windows and doors, or 
to burrow through walls. The assailants 
were soon in unequality of position fatal 
to the enemy. By eight o'clock in the 
evening. Worth had carried two batteries 
in this suburb. There was but one more 
obstacle, the San Cosme gate (custom- 
house), between him and the great square 
in front of the cathedral and palace — the 

0.9 



heart of the city. There was a lull in the 
firing, and already the inhabitants were 
hoping to pass a quiet night, when 
suddenly the dull roar of a heavy mortar 
resounded close by the town, and shells 
with fiery tails came with portentous 
energy. The gallant Quitman pressed on, 
regardless of gates, batteries, or citadels, 
and compelled Santa Anna to break vp In 
the middle of the night and retreat with 
all his force, leaving the city to the mercy 
of the victors. He turned northward to 
the villa of Gaudaloupe, and after a short 
rest retreated on to San Juan de 
Teotihuacan. 

On Tuesday morning, September four- 
teenth, 1847, the first American column 
made its appeai'ance in the streets of 
Mexico, and came on in dense masses 
through the principal avenues — Calle San 
Francisco, del Correo, de la Professa, and 
the two Plateros, in a straight line from 
the Alameda up to the palace and Plaza- 
Mayor. The Mexican colors now disap- 
peared from the palace, a regimental flag 
took their place, and directly afterwards 
the stars and stripes were flung out and 
waved proudly from the Halls of the 
Montezumas, — the first strange banner 
that had ever floated from that palace 
since the conquest of Cortez. 

On entering the palace, one of General 
Scott's first acts was to require from his 
comrades-in-arms, their thanks and grat- 
itude to God, both in public and pri- 
vate worship, for the signal triumphs 
which they had achieved for their coun- 
try ; warning them also against disorders, 
straggling, and drunkenness. 

Thus was the prowess of American arms 
successfuUj' asserted, the conquered nation 
being also compelled to cede the immensely 
valuable territory of New Mexico and 
Upper California to the United States, 
and accepting the lower Rio Grande, from 
its mouth to El Paso, as the boundary of 
Texas. 



XLIV. 

EXPEDITION TO THE RIVER JORDAN AND THE DEAD 
SEA, BY LIEUT. W. F. LYNCH.— 1847. 



The Sacred River Successfully Circuninavigatei and Surveyed. — Twenty Days and Nights Upon ihe 
" Sea of Death " — It is Explored, and Sounded, and Its Mysteries Solved. — Strange Phenomena and 
Unrelieved Desolation of the Locality. — Important Results to Science. — Zeal in Geographical 
Research. — Interest in the Holy Lsnd. — American Inquiry Aroused — Equipment of Lynch 's 
Expedition. — On Its Way to the Orient. — Anchoring Under Mount Carmel. — Passage Down 
the Jordan. — It is Traced to Its Source. — Wild and Impressive Scenery. — Rose Colored 
Clouds of Judea. — Configuration of the Dead Sea — Dense, Buoyant, Briny Waters. — Smarting of the 
Hands and Face. — Salt, Ashes, and Sulphureous Vapors, etc. — Tradition Among the Arabs. — Sad 
Fate of Former Explorers. — Temperature of This Sea. — Submerged Plains at Its Bottom. — Sheeted 
with Phosphorescent Foam. — Topography, Width and Depth. — " Apples of Sodom " Described. — 
The Pillar of Salt, Lot's Wife. 



•* But here, above, around, below. 

In moontaiii .ir in c\en. 

Nor tree, nor xhnib. nor flower, 

Noraughlnt' v«(;etative power. 

The weaned t'ye may ken : 

But all its rocka at random thrown. — 

Black wavea. — bare crags, — and heaps of etone.'* 




'lELDING to the earnest desire of individuals and societies interested in the 
advancement of geographical science, the United States government lent its 
.sanction and co-operative aid to the expedition planned in 1847, by Lieutenant 
W. F. Lynch, an accomplished naval officer, for the exploration and 
survey of the Dead Sea. The results of this expedition, so replete 
■with information of the most important and deeply interesting charac- 
ter concerning a spot so singular in its sacred and historic associations, 
as well as m3'sterious in its physical peculiarities, fully justified the 
zeal with which it was advocated and the high auspices under vphich it 
embarked. 

The names of those whose services were accepted by the commander, 
as members of the expedition, and whose qualifications were believed 
to fit them peculiarly for the undertaking, were as follows: Lieu- 
tenant, John B. Dale ; passed-midshipman, R. Aulick ; herbarist, 
Francis E. Lynch; master's mate, J. C. Thomas; navigators, Messrs. 
Overstock, Williams, Homer, Read, Robinson, Lee, Lock- 
L^ wood, Albertson, Loveland. At Constantinople, Mr. Henry 
Bedloe associated himself with the expedition, and, on their 
arrival at Beirut, Dr. H. J. Anderson became a member of the party, making the num- 
ber sixteen in all. The services of an intelligent native Syrian, named Ameung, were 



EXPEDITION TO THE DEAD SEA. 



355 



also obtained at Beirut, who acted in the 
capacity of interpreter, and rendered other 
important aid. 

By direction of the government at 
Washington, the store-ship Supply was 
placed at the disposal of Lieutenant Lynch, 
and, as the vessel would otherwise be in 
ballast, she was laden with stores for the 
United States naval squadron, then in the 
Mediterranean. 

The Supply sailed from New York, 
November twenty-first, and in about three 
months anchored off Smyrna. From the 
latter place, the officers of the expedition 
proceeded to Constantinople in the 
Austrian steamer, with the view of ob- 
taining from the Sultan, through the 
American minister, permission to pass 
through a part of his dominions in Syria, 
for the purpose of exploring the Dead Sea, 
and of tracing the Jordan to its source. 
The reception by the j'oung sultan was in 
all respects favorable ; the authorization 
was granted, and the sultan expressed 
much interest in the undertaking, request- 
ing to be informed of the results. 

Thus armed with all necessary powers, 
the officers returned to Smyrna, rejoining 
the Supply. On the tenth of March, the 
expedition sailed for the coast of Syria, 
and, after touching at Beirut and other 
places, came to anchor in the Bay of Acre, 
under Mount Carmel, March twenty- 
eighth. The explorers, with their stores, 
tents, and boats, having landed, an en- 
campment was formed on the beach, 
and the Supply departed to deliver to the 
naval squadron the stores with which it 
was laden, with orders to be back in time 
for the re-embarkation of the exploring 
party. 

The first difficulty of a practical nature 
was how to get the boats across to the Sea 
of Tiberias. The boats, mounted on 
trucks, were laden with the stores and 
baggage of the party, and all was arranged 
most conveniently — only the horses could 
not be persuaded to draw. The harness 
was also found to be much too large for 
the small Syrian horses ; and although 
they manifestly gloried in the strange 



equipment, and voluntarily performed 
sundry gay and fantastic movements, the 
operation of pulling was altogether averse 
to their habits and inclinations. At last, 
the plan suggested itself of trying camels. 
On being harnessed, three of the huge 
animals to each truck, they marched off 
with the trucks, the boats upon them, 
with perfect ease, to the great delight of 
the sojourners, and equal astonishment to 
the natives. 

All the arrangements being now 
perfected, the travelers took their de- 
parture from the coast, on the fourth of 
April. They were accompanied by a fine 
old man, an Arab nobleman, called Sherif 
Hazza, of Mecca, the thirty-third lineal 
descendant of the prophet. As he ap- 
peared to be highly venerated by the 
Arabs, Lieutenant Lynch thought it would 
be a good measure to induce him to join 
the party, and he was prevailed upon to 
do so. Another addition to the party was 
made next day in the person of a Bedouin 
sheikh of the name of Akil, with ten well- 
armed Arabs, or fifteen. Arabs in all, 
including servants. 

But little information concerning the 
Jordan could be obtained at Tiberias, and 
it was therefore with considerable con- 
sternation that the course of that river 
was soon found to be interrupted by 
frequent and most fearful rapids. Thus, 
to proceed at all, it often became necessary 
to plunge with headlong velocity down the 
most appalling descents. So great were 
the difficulties, that, on the second evening, 
the boats were not more than twelve miles 
in direct distance from Tiberias. 

The banks of the Jordan were found 
beautifully studded with vegetation ; the 
cultivation of the ground, however, not so 
extensive as it might be, and as it would 
be, if the crops were secured to the 
cultivator from the desperadoes who scour 
the region. The waters ( f the Jordan, 
clear and transparent except in the im- 
mediate vicinity of the rapids and falls, 
are well calculated for fertilizing the 
valleys of its course. There are often 
plenty of fish seen in its deep and shady 



356 



EXPEDITION TO THE DEAD SEA. 



course. The wide and deeply-depressed 
plain through which the river flows, is 
generally barren, treeless, and without 
verdure ; and the mountains, or rather, 
the cliffs and slopes of the risen uplands, 
present, for the most part, a wild and 
cheerless aspect. The verdure, such as it 
is, may only be sought on and near the 
lower valley or immediate channel of the 
Jordan. No one statement can apply to 
the scenery of its entire course; but this 
description given of the central part of the 
river's course, is a fair specimen of the 
kind of scenery which the passage of the 
river offers. 

Lieutenant Lj'nch describes the charac- 
ter of the whole scene of this dreary 
waste as singularly wild and impressive. 




Looking out upon the desert, bright with 
reverberated light and heat, was, he says, 
like beholding a conflagration from a 
window at twilight. Each detail of the 
strange and solemn scene could be ex- 
amined as through a lens. The moun- 
tains towards the west rose up like 
islands from the sea, with the billows 
heaving at their bases. The rough peaks 
caught the slanting sunlight, while sharp 
black shadows marked the sides turned 
from the rays. Deep rooted in the plain, 
the bases of the mountains heaved the 
garment of the earth away, and rose 
abruptly in naked pyramidal crags, each 
scar and fissure as palpably distinct as 
though within reach, and yet were far 
distant. Toward the south, the ridges 
and higher masses of the range, as they 



swept away in the distance, were aerial and 
faint, and softened into dimness by a pale 
transparent mist. The plain that sloped 
away from the bases of the hills was 
broken into ridges and multitudinous cone- 
like mounds, resembling tumultuous water 
at the meeting of two adverse tides, and 
presented a wild and checkered tract of 
land, with spots of vegetation flourishing 
upon the frontiers of irreclaimable sterility. 
A low, pale, and yellow ridge of conical 
hills marks the termination of the higher 
terrace, beneath which sweeps gently this 
lower plain with a similar undulating 
surface, half redeemed from barrenness by 
sparse verdure and thistle-covered hillocks. 
Still lower was the valley of the Jordan — 
the sacred river ! — its banks fringed with 
perpetual verdure ; winding in a thousand 
graceful mazes ; the pathway cheered 
with songs of birds, and its own clear 
voice of gushing minstrelsy ; its course a 
bright line in this cheerless waste. 

Concerning an earlier portion of the 
river's course, about one-third from the 
lake of Tiberias, Lieutenant Lynch says, 
that, for hours in their swift descent the 
boats floated down in silence — the silence 
of the wilderness. Here and there were 
spots of solemn beauty. The numerous 
birds sang with a music strange and 
manifold ; the willow branches were 
spread upon the stream like tresses, and 
creeping mosses and clambering weeds, 
with a multitude of white and silvery little 
flowers, looked out from among them ; and 
the cliff swallow wheeled over the falls, or 
went at his own will, darting through the 
arched vistas, and shadowed and shaped 
by the meeting foliage on the banks. 
There was but little variety in the scenery 
of the river; the streams sometimes 
washed the bases of the sandy hills, at 
other times meandered between low banks, 
generally fringed with trees and fragrant 
with blossoms. Some points presented 
views exceedingly picturesque. The 
western shore is peculiar from the high 
calcarious limestone hills which form a 
barrier to the stream when swollen by the 
efflux of the Sea of Galilee, during the 



EXPEDITION TO THE DEAD SEA. 



357 



winter and early spring ; while the left 
and eastern bank is low and fringed with 
tamarisk and willow, and occasionally a 
thicket of lofty cane, and tangled masses 
of shrubs and creeping jjlants, gave it the 
appearance of a jungle. 

No less than twenty-two nights were 
spent by the party upon the lake. During 
this time the whole circuit of it was made, 
including the back-water at the southern 
extremit}', which had never before been 
explored in boats. Every object of in- 
terest upon the banks was examined ; 
and the lake was crossed and recrossed in 
a zigzag direction through its whole 
extent, for the purpose of sounding. The 
figure of the lake, as sketched by the 
party, is somewhat different from that 
usually given to it. The breadth is more 
uniform throughout ; it is less narrowed 
at the northern extremity, and less 
widened on approaching the peninsula in 
the south. In its general dimensions it 
is longer, but is not so wide as usually 
represented. Its length by the map is 
forty miles, by an average breadth of 
about nine miles. The water, a nauseous 
compound of bitters and salts. 



A fresh north wind was blowing as they 
rounded the point. They endeavored to 
steer a little to the north of west, to make 
a true west course, and threw the patent 
log overboard to measure the distance; 
but the wind rose so rapidly that the 
boats could not keep head to wind, and it 
became necessary to haul the log in. The 
sea continued to rise with the increasing 
wind, which gradually freshened to a 
gale, and presented an agitated surface of 
foaming brine ; the spray, evaporating as 
it fell, left incrustations of salt upon the 
voyagers' clothes, as also their hands and 
faces ; and, while it conveyed a prickly 
sensation wherever it touched the skin, 
was, above all, exceedingly painful to the 
eyes. The boats, heavily- laden, struggled 
sluggishly at first; but when the wind 
increased in its fierceness, from the density 
of the water it seemed as if their bows 
were encountering the sledge-hammers of 
the Titans, instead of the opposing waves 
of an angry sea. Finallj-, such was the 
force of the wind, that it was feared both 
boats must founder. Knowing that they 
were losing advantage every moment, and 
that with the lapse of each succeeding one 




VALLEY OF THE JOUDAN AND DEAD SEA. 



After giving a sketch of the sights and 
scenes attending the bathing of the pil- 
grims in the Jordan, Lieutenant Lynch 
says that the river, where it enters the sea, 
is inclined towards the eastern shore ; and 
there is a considerable bay between the 
river and the mountains of Belka, in 
Ammon, ou the eastern shore of the sea. 



the danger increased, they kept away for 
the northern shore, in the hope of being 
yet able to reach it, — their arms, clothes 
and skin, coated with a greasy salt, and 
their eyes, lips and nostrils, smarting ex- 
cessively. 

But, although the sea had assumed a 
threatening aspect, and the fretted 



358 



EXPEDITION TO THE DEAD SEA. 



mountains loomed terrific on either side, 
and salt and ashes mingled with its sands, 
and fetid sulphureous springs trickled down 
its ravines, the explorers did not despair. 
Awe struck, but not terrified, fearing the 
worst yet hoping for the best, preparations 
were made to spend a dreary night upon 
the dreariest waste ever seen. There is a 
tradition among the Arabs that no one 



the exact topography of its shores, as- 
certained the temperature, width, depth, 
and velocity of its tributaries, collected 
specimens of every kind, and noted the 
winds, currents, changes of the weather, 
and all atmospheric phenomena. The 
bottom of this sea consists of two sub- 
merged plains, an elevated and a depressed 
one. Through the northern, and largest 




KlGUi ti.^NK OF THE I>EAI> SEA. 



can venture upon this sea and live, and the 
sad fates of Costigan and Molyneux are 
repeatedly cited- to deter such attempts. 
The first one spent a few days, the last 
about twenty hours, and returned to the 
place from whence he had embarked 
without landing on its shores. One was 
found dying upon the shore ; the other 
eypired, immediately after his return, of 
fever contracted upon its waters. 

The northern shore is an extensive mud 
flat, with a sandy plain beyond, the very 
type of desolation ; branches and trunks of 
trees lay scattered in every direction — 
some charred and blackened as by fire, 
others white with an incrustation of salt. 
The north-western shore is an unmixed bed 
of gravel, coming in a gradual slope from 
the mountains to the sea. The eastern 
coast is a rugged line of mountains, bare 
of all vegetation — a continuation of the 
Hauran range, coming from the north, and 
extending south beyond the scope of 
vision, throwing out three marked and 
seemingly equi-distant promontories from 
its south-eastern extremities. 

Lieutenant Lynch fullj' sounded the sea, 
determined its geographical position, took 



and deepest one, in a line corresponding 
with the bed of the Jordan, is a ravine, 
which also seems to correspond with the 
Wady el-Jeib, or ravine within a ravine, at 
the south end of the sea. 

At one time, the sea was observed to 
assume an aspect peculiarly somber. Un- 
stirred by the wind, it lay smooth and 
unruffled as an inland lake. The great 
evaporation inclosed it in a thin transpar- 
ent vapor, its purple tinge contrasting 
strongly with the extraordinary color of 
the sea beneath, and, where they blended 
in the distance, giving it the appearance 
of smoke from burning sulphur. It seemed 
a vast caldron of metal, fused but motion- 
less. The surface of the sea was one wide 
sheet of phosphorescent foam, and the 
waves, as they broke upon the shore, threw 
a sepulchral light upon the dead bushes 
and scattered fragments of rocks. The 
exhalations and saline deposits are as un- 
friendly to vegetable life as the waters are 
to animal existence ; that fruit can be 
brought to perfection there, may therefore 
well be considered improbable. 

The celebrated " Apples of Sodom," so 
often spoken of by ancient and modern 



EXPEDITIOlSr TO THE DEAD SEA. 



359 



■vrriters, are peculiar to this locality. The 
plant is a perennial, specimens of which 
liave been found from ten to fifteen feet 
high, and seven or eight feet in girth. It 
has a gray, cork-like bark, with long and 
oval leaves. The fruit resembles a large 
smooth apple or orange, and when ripe is 
of a yellow color. It is fair to the eye, 
and soft to the touch, but when pressed, 
it explodes with a puff, leaving in the 
hand only the shreds of the rind and a few 
fibers. It is, indeed, chiefly filled with 
air like a bladder, which gives it the round 
form, while in the center is a pod contain- 
ing a quantity of fine silk with seeds. 
When green, the fruit, like the leaves and 
the bark, affords, when cut or broken, a 
thickish, white milky fluid. This plant, 
however, which from being in Palestine 
found only on the shores of the Dead Sea, 
was locally regarded as being the special 
and characteristic product of that lake, is 
produced also in Nubia, Arabia, and Persia. 
Thus, this assumed mystery of the 'Sea of 
Death ' is a simple phenomenon of nature, 
easily explained ; as is also that of the 
alleged fire and smoke of the lake, being, 
as already described, simply mist and 
phosphorescence. 

In regard to the pillar of salt into which 
Lot's wife was turned,— one of the most 
remarkable facts recorded in holy writ, — 
and the continued existence of which has 
always been asserted by the natives, as 
well as by many travelers, Lieutenant 
Lynch asserts that a pillar is there to be 
seen ; the same, without doubt, to which 
the reports of the natives and of travelers 
refer. But that this pillar, or any like it, 
is or was that into which Lot's wife was 
transformed, cannot, of course, be demon- 
strated. 

It is a lofty, round pillar, standing ap- 
parently detached from the general mass, 



at the head of a deep, narrow, and abrupt 
chasm. Immediately pulling in for the 
shore, the lieutenant in company with Dr. 
Anderson, went up and examined it. The 
beach was a soft, slimy mud, encrusted 
with salt, and a short distance from the 
water, covered with saline fragments, and 
flakes of bitumen. They found the pillar 
to be of solid salt, capped with carbonate 
of lime, cylindrical in front and pyramidal 
behind. The upper or rounded part is 
about forty feet high, resting on a kind of 
oval pedestal, from forty to sixty feet above 
the level of the sea. It slightly decreases 
in size upwards, crumbles at the top, and is 
one entire mass of crystallization. A prop 
or buttress connects it with the mountain 
behind, and the whole is covered with de- 
bris of a light stone color. Its peculiar 
shape is attributable to the action of the 
winter rains. Lieutenant Lynch gives no 
credit to the representations that connect 
this pillar or column with Lot's wife. 
And this is true of most travelers who have 
visited the sjjot, though Montague gives it, 
as his opinion, that Lot's wife having lin- 
gered behind, she, while so lingering, be- 
came overwhelmed in the descending fluid, 
and formed the model or foundation foi 
this extraordinary column ; a lasting me- 
morial of God's punishing a most deliber- 
ate act of disobedience. 

After an absence of a little more than a 
year. Lieutenant Lynch returned, with his 
companions, to the United States, the ex- 
pedition having been highly successful in 
accomplishing the purpose for which it 
was planned ; comparing most favorably 
in this respect with the results of explora- 
tions made by othe. parties, and receiving 
the liighest encomiums of English review- 
ers some of whose comments, throwing 
additional light on various points involved 
in the subject, are here presented. 



XLV. 

DISCOVERT OF GOLD AT SUTTER'S MILL, CALIFOR- 
NIA.— 1848. 



Widely Extended and Inexhaustible Deposits of tlie Precious Metal. — The News Spreads like Wild-fiie 
to the Four Quarters of the Globe. — Overwhelming Tide of Emigration from All Countries. — Nucleus 
of a Great Empire on the Pacific. — California Becomes the El Dorado of the World and the Golden 
Commonwealth of the American Union. — First Practical Discovery of the Gold. — On John A. Sutter's 
Land. — Found by J. W. Marshall. — Simple Accident that Led to It. — Marshall's Wild Excitement. — 
Shows Sutter the Golden Grains. — A Dramatic Interview. — The Discovery Kept Secret. — How it 
was Disclosed. — A Real Wonder of the Age. — Trials of the Early Emigrants. — Their Bones Whiten 
the Soil. — All Professions at the Mines — Impetus Given to Commerce. — Life Among the Diggers. — 
Disordered State of Society. — Crimes, Outrages, Conflagrations. — Scarcity, Fabulous Prices. — Mining 
by M.ichinery. — Order and Stability Keached. — Population in 1867, 6UO,000. — Gold in Ten Year<, 
$tiUO,000,000. 



" Gold to fetch, ond gold to seed. 
Gold to borrow, and gold to tend. 
Gold to keep, and gold to spend. 
And abundaDce of gold vijuturo.^ 




MlA'l^U Ol'EKATlONS IX CALlFOR^•lA. 



ITHOUT any exaggeration, it 

may be asserted that no modern 

event has been the canse of so 

much romance in real life, — no 

branch or sphere of trade, even though perfected by long 

experience, has called into employment so many of the 

uieins and instrumentalities of diversified human industry 

and commercial intercourse, — indeed, nothing within the 

memory of man, except the achievements of steam and the 

electric telegraph, approaches so nearly to magic, as the 

discovery of gold, in luxurious deposits, on the shores of the 

Pacific, and that, too, in the soil of a territory which, by 

inquest and purchase, had but just fallen, like fruit golden 

ripe, into the lap of the Great Republic. This 

discovery occurred at Sutter's mill, in Coloma 

county, California, in February, 

1848. 

Here, however, it deserves to 
be stated as a matter of histori- 
- cal interest, that gold placers 
were worked in certain portions 
of California, long before the 
discovery just mentioned. Tho 



^^^^^ - 




DISCOVERY OF GOLD IN CALIFORNIA. 



361 



evidence of tins appears in a letter ad- 
dressed by Abel Stearns, of Los Angeles, 
to Louis R. Lull, secretary of the Califor- 
nia Society of Pioneers. Mr. Stearns, who 
went to California from Mexico in 1829, 
states that on the 22d of November, 1842, 
he sent bj' Alfred Robinson — who returned 
from California to the states by way of 
Mexico — twenty ounces California weight, 
or eighteen and three-fourths ounces mint 
weight, of placer gold, to be forwarded by 
him to the United States mint at Phila- 
delphia; the mint assay was returned 
August 6, 1843. This gold was taken 
from placers first discovered in March, 
1842, by Francisco Lopez, a Californiau, 
at San Francisquito, about thirty-five miles 
north-west from Los Angeles. It appears 
that Lopez, while resting in the shade with 
some companions, during a hunt for stray 
horses, dug up some wild onions with his 
sheath knife, and in the dirt discovered a 
piece of gold. Searching further, he found 
more pieces, and on returning to town an- 
nounced his discovery. A few persons, 
mostly Sonorians, who were accustomed to 
placer mining in Mexico, worked in the 
San Francisquito placer from this time 
until the latter part of 1846 (when the 
w^ar with the United States disturbed the 
country), taking out some six thousand to 
eight thousand dollars in value, per annum. 
The United States mint certificate for the 
assay made for Mr. Stearns in 1843, is now 
in the archives of the "Society- of Califor- 
nia Pioneers." 

Before the great event which made the 
year 1848 so memorable, the influence of 
the United States had already become con- 
spicuous in the affairs of California, and 
had in a degree prepared the way for what 
was to follow. In the words of a British 
writer, the United States spread her actual 
influence long before she planted a flag as 
the sign of her dominion. For two j'ears 
previous to the capture of Monterey, in 
1846, her authority had been paramount in 
California. At length, toward the close of 
the summer of 1845, Fremont appeared in 
the neigliborhood of Monterey, whose parl;- 
like scenery — trees scattered in groujis 



over grass}' hills, wide sloping fields, plan- 
tations of oak and fir, red-tiled houses, 
yellow-washed church, and white cottages 
— showed in pleasant contrast to the deso- 
late region of the Rocky mountains he had 
left. He was accompanied by some of his 
trappers — men of muscle and daring, 
dressed in deer-skin coats, with formidable 
rifles, and mounted on tall, spare horses. 
They rode in Indian file through the out- 
skirts ; their leader viewed the town, and 
they vanished. Soon again he appeared, 
with an ominous array of thirty-five fol- 
lowers, encamped on a woody height ; was 
commanded to depart, was driven to the 
hills, pursued, and again lost sight of. 
An American ship then sailed into the 
harbor. Fremont was again at Monterey. 
The Californians foresaw the probable 
progress of events, and perhaps secretly 
desired the fostering protection of the 
great republic. While balancing between 
that and independence, two United States 
vessels simultaneously entered the harbors 
of Monterey and San Francisco, and in 
July, 1846, the whole of California came 
under the rule of America. A new era 
was again opened. An immediate change 
a2)peared. Industry was revived ; deserted 
villages were repeopled ; neglected lands 
were again cultivated ; decaj'ing towns 
were renovated ; and the busy hum of 
toil broke that silence and lethargy which 
brooded, over an ill-governed countrj'. 

But another and greater change was at 
hand, to turn the tide of her fortunes into 
a new, a wider, and more diffusive channel, 
and to raise California from the condition 
of a wild and isolated territory, to be the 
very focus of the world's attention, — the 
spot where innumerable streams of emigra- 
tion from the four quarters of the world, 
from barbarous and civilized countries, 
pouring across the Rocky Mountains, or 
brought over the sea, from distant shores, 
were to meet in tumultuous confluence, 
and, flowing upon each other, form an 
eddying whirlpool of excitement, such as 
few countries on the globe, in any period 
of their history, could {jresent to the ob- 
servation of mankind. 



362 



DISCOVERY OF GOLD IN CALIFORNIA. 



What is the character of this region, 
independently of its newly discovered 
treasures, at the period mentioned? It 
is wealthy in many natural resources. Its 
extent is great. From Cape Mendocino, 
at the borders of the United States, to the 
root of the peninsula, is seven hundred 
miles, and Lower California thrusts out 
its vast tongue to an almost equal dis- 
tance. The old region is for the most 
part a broken, hilly, and barren tract of 
land ; but occasional plains of rich fertility 
alternate with the less favored tracts, and 
these formed the sites of the old Jesuit 
missions. Alta California extends from 
the coast to the provinces of New Mexico. 
Of the interior desert basin, little is known, 
except that it is a wild, rocky, and woody 
territory, watered by a few rivers, and 
lakes, rising periodically from the earth, 
and peopled by wandering Indian hordes. 
The Sierra Nevada, or snowy range, di- 
vides the gold region from the great des- 
ert basin; and between this and the sea 
lies another line of mountains, forming a 
valley five hundred miles in length, wa- 
tered by the Sacramento and the San 
Joachim. These streams, forming a junc- 
tion in the center of the valley, diverge 
toward the sea, and pour in an united 
current into the harbor of San Francisco 
— one of the noblest on the globe. The 
aspect of the country is diversified, and 
full of beauty. Green valleys, glittering 
lakes, and verdant hills, extend along the 
interior borders, backed by the rounded 
spires of the snowy range, whose deep ra- 
vines and caverns are just now peopled by 



toiling gold-hunters; and these are drawing 
more wealth from the bleakest, most bar- 
ren, and most neglected spots, than a hus- 
bandman in the course of many years could 
derive from the most luxuriantly cultivated 
land. Along the river banks, light grassy 
slopes alternate with stony, broken, sandy 
expanses, honey-combed as it were by 
time, but now swarming with amateur 
del vers. However, the country, as a 
■whole, is fertile; producing readily grains, 
vegetables, and fruits, with fine timber, 
whilst immense pasture grounds afford 
nourishment to the flocks and herds that 
once formed the principal wealth of Cali- 
fornia. 

Uf to the year 1847, so comparatively 
small were the gatherings of gold, in 
various sections of the globe, that in 




DISCOVERY OF GOLD IN CALIFORNIA. 



363 



reckoning tte average produce of the pre- 
cious metal, of all parts of the New ami 
Old World for a series of years previous to 
1847, it did not amount to the annual 
value of twenty-five million dollars. 

It was in September, 1847, that Captain 
John A. Sutter, the great pioneer settler 
in California, commenced an undertaking 




JOHN A. SOTTElt. 



which led, by a very simple and ordinary 
circumstance, to the first praetiral dis- 
covery of the j)ro(Ugioushj valuable gold 
mines of California — the long-sought El 
Dorado of ancient and modern times. 
This undertaking consisted in the erection 
of a saw-mill at Coloma, on a mountainous 
spot about one thousand feet above the 
level of the valley, where the Rio des los 
Americanos pours down from the Sierra 
Nevada to swell the united streams of the 
Sacramento and San Joachim. 

Such an enterprise, in such a region, at 
a time when the political and social con- 
dition of the country was so unsettled and 
uncertain, indicated a mind of energy and 
executive capacity, on the part of the 
projector. And it was even so, in full 
measure, in the case of Captain Sutter. 
He is described, by his biographers, in the 
annals of San Francisco, as an intelligent 
Swiss emigrant, who sailed for and reached 
New York, in July, 1834; but finally 
settled and for several years resided in 
Missouri. The wild west had always 
possessed a charm for him, and he had re- 
moved thither; but now his adventurous 
spirit looked still further towards the setting 



sun, and roved along the waters that sped 
their unknown way to the Pacific. Leav- 
ing family and home, in company with Sir 
William Drummond Stewart, he joined a 
party, under the charge of Captain Tripps, 
of the American Fur Company, and start- 
ed for the broad valleys of California, 
where he knew that rich and fertile lands 
only awaited an industrious cultivator, and 
where Providence had even a still richer 
yielding field that he knew not of. He 
left the trappers at their rendezvous on 
the Wind river among the Kansas Rocky 
mountains, and with a new party of six 
decided on proceeding to their destination 
by way of Oregon. Crossing the valley of 
the Willamette, he finally arrived at Fort 
Vancouver, and there ascertained that 
innumerable delays must elapse before he 
could reach California. Nothing daunted, 
and apparently urged, like Columbus, to 
accomplish his object despite of fate, 
Captain Sutter sailed for the Sandwich 
Islands, hoping to embark thence direct 
for the Spanish coast. But when he 
arrived there, no vessels were about to sail 
in that direction. Again he threw down 
the gauntlet to fate, and re-embarked for 
Sitka Island, in Russian America, and 
from that immense distance at last reached 
Yerba Buena, July second, 1839. Not 
permitted to land here, he again embarked, 
and was finally allowed to set foot on 
California soil at Monterey. Having suc- 
ceeded in overcoming the Spanish opposi- 
tion to foreign settlers, he obtained the 
permission of Governor Alvarado to locate 
himself in the valley of the Rio del Sacra- 
mento ; more readily granted, perhaps, 
because it was then the abode of savage 
Indians. He explored the Sacramento, 
Feather and American rivers, and in 
August, 1839, about eighteen months after 
he commenced his journey, permanently 
established himself on the latter river, 
with a colony of only three whites and 
eight Kanakas. In a short time, he re- 
moved to the location afterwards known as 
Sutter's Fort, and took possession of the 
surrounding country under a Mexican 
grant, giving to it the nnme of New 



364 



DISCOVERY OF GOLD IN CALIFORNIA. 



Helvetia. From this point lie cut a road 
to tlie junction of tlie Sacramento and 
American rivers, where he established a 
quay or landing-place, on the site of which 
has since been built the city of Sacramento. 
Here he remained for several years, becom- 
ing possessor of a large amount of land, 
and rapidly carrying on various and ex- 
tensive imjirovements. At one time he 
had a thousand acres sown in wheat, and 
owned eight thousand neat cattle, two 
thousand horses and mules, as many sheep, 
and a thousand swine. He was appointed 
alcalde of the district by Commodore 
Stockton, and Indian agent by General 
Kearney ; and with all his sympathies 
with this country, his earnest wish was to 
see California brought into the American 
Union. 

Among the followers of Sutter was 
James W. Marshall, who emigrated from 
New Jersey to Oregon in 1843, and a year 
later went to California. By trade he 
was a carpenter, and to him Captain 
Sutter intrusted the erection of the saw- 
mill at Coloma, where good water-power 
and plenty of lumber had determined its 
location. It was this enterprise wliich led 
to the most famous discovery of gold ever 
liuown in the history of the globe. How 
this happened, has been differently related 
by different authorities, but perhaps by 
none more authentically than by Mr. 
Dunbar, president of the Traveller's Club 
of New York. The saw-mill was com- 
pleted in January, 1848, and they had 
just commenced sawing lumber, when, on 
the night of February 2d, Marshall 
appeared at Sutter's Fort, his horse in a 
foam and himself presenting a singular 
appearance — all bespattered with mud, 
and laboring under intense excitement. 

And now ensued a scene which can 
scarcely be exceeded in its elements of 
dramatic representation. Marshall imme- 
diately requested Captain Sutter to go 
with him into a room where they could be 
alone. This request was granted, and, 
after the door was closed, Marshall asked 
Captain Sutter if he was sure they would 
not be disturbed, and desired that the 



door might be locked. Captain Sutter did 
not know what to make of his actions, and 
he began to think it hazardous to lock 
himself in the room with Marshall, who 
appeared so uncommonly strange. Mar- 
shall being satisfied at last that they 
would not be interrupted, took from his 
pocket a pouch from which he poured 
upon the table about an ounce of yellow 
grains of metal, which he thought would 
prove to be gold. Captain Sutter inquired 
where he got it. Marshall stated that in 
the morning, the water being shut off from 
the saw-mill race, as was customary, he 
discovered, in passing through the race, 
shining particles here and there on the 
bottom. On examination, he found them 
to be of metallic substance, and the 
thought flashed over him that they might 
be gold. How hig with events was this 
2>oint of time / Marshall stated that the 
laborers — white and Indian — had picked 
up some of the particles, and he thought 
a large quantity could be collected. 

Captain Sutter was at first quite 
incredulous as to these particles being 
gold, but happening to have a bottle of 
nitric acid among his stores, he applied 
the test, and, true enough, the yellow 
grains proved to be pure gold. The great 
discovery tvas made ! 

The account given above agrees sub- 
stantially with Captain Sutter's own 
narrative of the event, namely: That 
Marshall had contracted with him for the 
building of a saw-mill for producing 
lumber, on the south fork of the American 
River, a feeder of the Sacramento. In 
the course of his operations, Marshall had 
occasion to admit the river water into the 
tail-race, for the purpose of widening and 
deepening it by the strength of the 
current. In doing this, a considerable 
quantity of mud, sand, and gravel, was 
carried along with the stream, and 
deposited in a heap at the foot of the tail- 
race. Marshall, when one day examining 
the state of his works, noticed a few 
glittering particles lying near the edge of 
the heap. His curiosity being aroused, 
he gathered some of the sparkling objects; 



DISCOVERY OF GOLD IN CALIFORNIA. 



365 



and he at once became satisfied of their 
nature and the value of his discovery. All 
trembling with excitement, he hurried to 
his employer and told his story. Captain 
Sutter at first thought it was a fiction, and 
the teller only a mad fool. Indeed, he 
confesses that he keiit a sharp eye upon 
his loaded rifle, when he, whom he was 
tempted to consider a maniac, was eagerly 
disclosing the miraculous tale. However, 
his doubts were all at once dispelled when 
Marshall tossed on the table before him 
some of the shining dust. 

Not less interesting is the account given 
of the manner in which the discovery 
became public — owing, as appears by Mr. 
Dunbar's statement, to th.at which extracts 
both wit and wisdom, as well as folly, from 
the brain of man. After some examin- 
ation, Captain Sutter became satisfied that 
gold in considerable quantities would be 
found in that neighborhood; and while the 
reflections of Marshall were probably con- 
fined to the idea of rapidly acquired 
wealth for himself. Captain Sutter realized 
at once how impossible it would be to hold 
his laborers to their work in carrj-ing on 
his improvements, gathering his crops, and 
avoid being overrun by new-comers, 
should the gold prove abundant and the 
discovery be promulgated. He therefore 
begged the laborers to say nothing about 
the gold for six weeks. His grist-mill and 
some other improvements would then be 
completed, and his crops all gathered. 
The laborers promised to comply with his 
request, and Captain Sutter returned home 
on the fifth of February. But the great 
secret could not long be retained. A 
bottle of whiskey made it known. A 
teamster, whom Captain Sutter had dis- 
patched to the saw-mill with supplies, 
heard of the discovery of gold, and 
managed to obtain some of the precious 
grains. On returning to the fort, he 
immediately went to the neighboring 
store, kept by a Mormon, and demanded a 
bottle of whiskey. This was a cash article 
in that country, and, as the teamster was 
poor pay, the trader refused to sell him 
the whiskey. The man declared he had 



plenty of money, and exhibited some 
grains of gold. The astonished trader, on 
being satisfied that these were gold, gave 
his customer the bottle of whiskey, and 
earnestly inquired where he got the gold. 
The teamster refused to make known the 
secret till he had imbibed considerable of 
the liquor, when his tongue was loosened, 
and he told all about the discovery of gold 
at Sutter's mill. The wonderful talc 
spread like wild-fire throughout the 
sparsely inhabited territory of California. 
It ran up and down the Pacific coast, 
traversed the continent, reached the 
Atlantic shores, and in a short time the 
story of California's golden treasures had 
startled the whole civilized world. 

Naturally enough, the first rumors, as 
they spread abroad, were lightly tossed 




JAMES W. MARSHALL. 

aside ; but confirmation gave them 
strength, and as each transmission of 
intelligence to the United States carried 
fresh accounts of new discoveries, an 
enthusiastic ardor was awakened, and 
within four months of that eventful day, 
five thousand persons were delving on the 
river's banks, on the slopes, amid the 
ravines, hollows, and caverns in the valley 
of the Sacramento. 

And now, from the vast population of 
the great republic, new streams of emigra- 
tion broke at once to swell that current 
which for years had set noiselessly toward 
the valleys of California. Gradually, the 
knowledge of the auriferous soil was borne 
to the four quarters of the world, and from 



368 



DISCOVERY OF GOLD IN CALIFORNIA. 



all the ports of all nations sails were 
spread toward the coasts of that wealthy 
region. As by a magnetic impulse, the 
sands of the Sacramento attracted popular 
tion. Lawyers, clergymen, physicians, 
hotel-keepers, merchants, mechanics, 
clerks, traders, farmers, left their occupa- 
tions, and hurried with basket and spade 
to the land that glittered. Homes and 
houses were closed ; the grass threatened 
to grow over whole streets ; deserted ships 
swung on their anchors in silent harbors. 
The garrison of Monterey abandoned arms 
and took up the pickaxe and the shovel. 
Trains of wagons constantly streamed 
from the coast to the interior. Stores and 
sheds were built along the river bank, 
and crammed with provisions to be sold at 
more than famine prices; whole towns of 
tents and bushy bowers sprang up as if 
by magic ; every dawn rose upon a motley 
toiling multitude, swarming in every nook 
and corner of the modern El Dorado, and 
every night was illuminated by the flames 
of a thousand bivouacs. 

Half-naked Indians, sharp-visaged Yan- 
kees in straw hats and loose frocks, groups 
of swarthy Spanish-Americans, old Dons 
in the gaudy costume of a dead fashion, 
gigantic trappers with their rude jirairie 
garb, and gentlemen traders from all the 
States of the Union, with crowds of 
Californian women, jostled in tumultuous 
confusion through the gold district. 
Every method, from the roughest to the 
most ingenious, was devised for the rapid 
accumulation of gold ; and the strange 
spectacle was presented of a vast pojjula- 
tion, without law, without authority, with- 
out restraint, toiling together in amicable 
companionship. But the duration of this 
condition of things was brief. Outrages 
were perpetrated, robbery commenced, 
blood was shed, and anarchy in its most 
hideous form appeared. But the United 
States government soon laid the founda- 
tions of order, and prepared a system of 
regular legislation for California. A 
severe code was established; thieving in- 
curred the heavy penalty of a brand on 
the cheek, with mutilation of the ears ; 



other crimes were punished with similar 
rigor. 

Within a period of five months, the 
population of the territory had run up to 
one hundred thousand, having just quad- 
rupled during that time. Of these, some 
forty-five thousand arrived in the nine 
thousand wagons that traversed the over- 
land route, and four thousand on mule- 
back, while the remainder came via 
Panama, and round Cape Horn. One- 
third of this multitude was composed of 
farmers, another of tradesmen and me- 
chanics, and the rest of merchants, pro- 
fessional men, adventurers, and gamblers. 
The vast emigrant armies acted as pioneers 
on their various routes, hewing down 
trees, filling up chasms, leveling the 
grounds, and bridging torrents. But the 
sufferings endured in these colossal cara- 
vans were severe and terrible. Many 
perished on the route ; many became in- 
sane, or wasted away, through lack of food 
and water. The scourge of cholera also 
overtook the early emigrants, before they 
were fairly embarked on the wilderness ; 
the frequent rains of the early spring, 
added to the hardships and exposure of 
their travel, prepared the way for its 
ravages, and the first four hundred miles 
of the trail were marked by graves, to 
the iminber of about four thousand. 
Many also suffered immensely for want 
of food. Bayard Taylor, in his narrative 
of what befell these pioneer emigrants, says 
that not only were they compelled to kill 
their horses and mules to keep themselves 
from starvation, but it was not unusual for 
a mess by way of variety to the tough mule 
steaks, to kill a quantity of rattlesnakes, 
with which the mountains abounded, and 
have a dish of them fried for supper. 

And still the tide of emigration rolled 
onward, as the richness of the gold 
product, over so vast a region of territory, 
became a confirmed fact. Notwithstand- 
ing the oft-told story of deprivation, 
famine and death, parties and companies 
dail^' went forth to El Dorado, the golden 
land. Some took the perilous inland route 
across the Rocky mountains ; some went 



DISCOVERY OF GOLD IN CALIFORNIA. 



367 



round Cape Horn ; and multitudes took 
the Panama route. The tens of thousands 
who thus went, having no other object 
than to get gold, had neither means nor 
inclination to grow their own food nor to 
manufacture their own necessaries ; and 
hence arose a field of enterprise which the 
commercial world did not neglect. Valu- 
able cargoes were dispatched to San Fran- 
cisco to be there sold in exchange for 
gold dust, and that place in time became a 
populous, busy, thriving city, distinguished 
also for reckless speculation, fabulous 
prices for real estate, excesses of all kinds, 
and disastrous conflagrations. During 
one week in 1850, gold dust to the value 
of three million dollars was shijjped and 
exported from San Francisco. In August 
of the same year the monthly shipment 
had reached about eight million dollars. 
On September 15, 1850, there were in that 
port six hundred and eighty-four vessels, 
belonging to twenty-one different nations ; 
some of these vessels, small in size, had 
crossed the whole breadth of the Pacific 
from Australia and New Zealand, to ex- 
change their produce for gold dust. In 
the first two weeks of October, in the 
same year, ninety-four vessels arrived at 
San Francisco, not including the regular 
steamers. 

But the most strange and wonderful 
spectacle of all, was that exhibited by 
the money-diggers at their avocation. 
Men with long-handled shovels delved 
among clumps of bushes, or by the side of 
large rocks, never raising their eyes for an 
instant; others, with pick and shovel, 



worked among stone and gravel, or with 
trowels searched under banks and roots 
of trees, where, if rewarded with small 
lumps of gold, their eyes suddenly kindled 
with pleasure, and the search was more 
intently pursued. In the water, knee, or 
even waist deep, regardless of the shiver- 
ing cold, others were washing the soil 
iu the tin pans or the common cradle rocker, 
whilst the sun poured a hot flood upon their 
heads. The common rocking machine 
for separating the gold was at first in great 
demand, but this was soon superseded by a 
cradle of ingenious construction ; then 
came crushing mills, of various kinds, for 
pounding the auriferous quartz ; and in 
time, machinery of the most effective 
adaptability was universally introduced. 
This operated powerfully to regulate min- 
ing operations, and to give order and 
stability to affairs generally throughout 
the territory. Society assumed the most 
advanced organization, churches every- 
where dotted the land, education was 
fostered, and the political institutions of 
the country patterned after those of the 
older states. Agricultural, industrial, 
and commercial pursuits were entered upon 
largely and with great success ; California 
was admitted as a state into the Union in 
1850 ; and in only ten years from Mar- 
shall's curious and accidental discovery of 
gold at Sutter's mill, in 1848, the gold 
product of California had reached a total 
of six hundred million dollars, and the 
population had increased from between 
twenty and thirty thousand souls to six 
hundred thousand ! 



XLVL 
AWFUL VISITATIONS OF THE "ANGEL OF DEATH."— 1849. 



Yellow Fever and Cholera Epidemics at Different Periods.— Friglitful Mortality and Panic in 1849.— 
Business Abandoned, Churches Closed, Streets Barricaded, Cities Deserted. — Proclamation by the 
President of the United States.— Tlie Virtues, Passions, and Vices of Human Nature Strikingly Illus- 
trated. — Tens of Thousands Swept at Once from the Face of the Earth. — Various Eras of American 
Epidemics. — Wide and Ghastly Ravages. — Self-Preservation the First Law. — Social Intercourse Sus- 
pended. — Ties of affection Sundered — Parents Forsake Children. — Husbands Flee from Wives — Rich 
Men Buried like Paupers. — Money and Rank Unavailing. — Rumble of the Dead-Carts. — Activity in the 
Grave-yards — They Look as if Plowed Up. — Women in Childbirth Helpless. — Their Screams for 
Succor. — Care of a Lunatic Patient. — The Tender Passion Still Alive — Courageous Marriages. 
— Death in the Bridal Chamber. — Anecdotes of the Clergy. — Crime, Filth, and Disease — Quacks and 
Nostrums Rife. — The Celebrated " Thieves' Vinegar." 



"Bring out your dead 1"— CRT of the Dead-Cabt DKIVEn^^. 




STRUCK WITH TUE CHOLERA, 



UAKER order, cleanliness, and temperance, so characteristic of the 
"citj' of brotherly love," did not save Pliiladelphia from being vis- 
ited, at an early period after tlie founding of the republic, by one of 
the most direful scourges that ever was known in the western world. 
This was the yellow fever, or "plague," in 1793, an epidemic which, 
from its remarkable nature and development, is entitled to 
tlie first mention in an article like this, and reminiscences of 
1 — deeply interesting and indeed in gome instances 
almost tragical — will be found in the highest degree 
readable, at the present day. 

Following this, was the malignant spotted 
fever, in which the patient had large red spots 
here and there ; it broke out in Massachusetts, 
in 1806. and continued until 1815. in the various 
northern states. In 1812, the United States 
army in New York and Vermont suffered se- 
verely from it. In the latter state, it was the 
most alarming disease ever known. It usually 
attacked persons of the most hardy and robust 
constitution, and often proved fatal in a few 
hours ; not uncommonly, the patient was a 
corpse before a physician could be brought to his 
assistance. 

In 1822, the yellow fever appeared again in 
New York, with great virulence, after an inter- 



YELLOW FEVER AJSTD CHOLERA EPIDEMICS. 



369 



mission of some seventeen years, and 
though the mortality was much less exten- 
sive than previously, the panic was even 
sharper, — the city south of the park being 
fenced off and nearly deserted, families, 
merchants, banks, and even the city gov- 
ernment removing to a distance. But in 
1833-5, the disease was far more virulent. 

In 1832, the Asiatic cholera, or cholera 
asphyxia, made its appearance in the 
United States for the first time, coming 
by way of Canada. Following the course 
of the large rivers, it soon reached Buffalo, 
and then spread irregularly', occurring in 
towns and cities at distances from each 
other, without affecting intervening dis- 
tricts till a subsequent period. In the 
city of New York, it appeared June 27th, 
and continued two months, during which 
period there were three thousand four hun- 
dred deaths. In Albany, it showed itself 
at the same time as in New York ; and 
while its fury was abating in the latter 
place, it began to appear in its most for- 
midable shape in Philadelphia, and in a 
few weeks a thousand fell victims. About 
the same mortality occurred in Baltimore 
and Washington, which cities the con- 
tagion soon reached. It commenced in 
Cincinnati in Julj', became epidemic in 
September, and continued through most 
of the summer of 1833. In the southern 
states, it made great havoc amongst the 
slave population, who fell ready and easy 
subjects of its power. Fatal, beyond all 
precedent, was the malady, in New Orleans 
and St. Louis. The middle states never 
before knew so terrible a visitation. 

From the north, the disease also ex- 
tended itself along the borders of the 
great lakes, and soon its ravages began at 
Detroit. The six eastern states escaped 
with only a few cases, principally in the 
port towns of Massachusetts, Rhode Island, 
and Connecticut. 

And now again, this awful scourge re- 
appeared, in 1849, to blast the land with 
death on every side, carrying terror to 
every home and heart, and sweeping tens 
of thousands into the grave. In New 
Orleans, it broke out about the middle of 
24 



December, 1848, and continued through 
the winter. So frightful were its devastar 
tions, that it is estimated to have deci- 
mated the inhabitants that remained in 
some wards of the city. The raging pesti- 
lence appeared in New York in Maj', and, 
so violent was its spread, that during the 
week ending July 21st, more than seven 
hundred deaths occurred ; the mortality 
that week was the greatest that had ever 
taken place in anj' city in the United 
States, the deaths by all diseases number- 
ing more than fourteen hundred. In 
Boston, the deaths from cholera, during 
June, July, August, and September, were 
rising six hundred. But it was far more 
terrible in Cincinnati and St. Louis, the 
victims in each of these cities being up- 
wards of six thousand. Over all the mid- 
dle and western states, this Angel of Death 
spread his destroying wings, and in many 
parts of New England. The third day of 
August, 1849, was, in view of the terrible 
scourge thus stalking mightily over the 
broad land, appointed by the president of 
the United States as a day of fasting and 
praj'er, that God would " avert the pesti- 
lence that walketh in darkness and the 
destruction that wastetb at noonday." 

Again, in 1853, terror and panic seized 
the land, from another visitation of the 
j-ellow fever or plague. It spent its chief 
force upon that oft-doomed city. New Or- 
leans, where, in the short space of three 
months, ten per cent, of the whole popu- 
lation fell victims. 

Concerning the origin, or producing 
causes, of these epidemics, authorities 
have differed so widely, that little of a 
conclusive character, on these points, can 
be presented ; and the same may be said 
respecting the modes of treatment. Much, 
however, that is interesting as well as 
profitable, relative to these awful visita- 
tions, may be learned from the various 
phenomena and incidents that accompa- 
nied them. 

In no other place, perhaps, were the 
manifestations and effects of a deathly 
epidemic upon human conduct exhibited 
more strikingly than in the city of Phila- 



370 



YELLOW FEVER A^D CHOLERA EPIDEMICS. 



delphia. The dread of the contagion drove 
parents from their children, and even 
wives from their husbands. All the ties 
of affection and consanguinity were rent 
asunder, and humanity was left to mourn 
over its own selfishness, in the ardor of 
self-preservation. 

Such was the degree of consternation, 
dismay and affright, which possessed 
people's minds, that, according to Mr. 



were afraid to allow the barbers or hair- 
dressers to come near them, as instances 
had occurred of some of them having 
shaved the dead, and many having en- 
gaged as bleeders. Some, who carried 
their caution pretty far, bought lancets 
for themselves, not daring to allow them- 
selves to be bled with the lancets of the 
bleeders. Many houses were scarcely a 
moment free from the smell of gunpowder, 




OSUMENT TO TUE VICII.MS OF CHOLERA. 



Carey, the historian of that period, most 
of the inhabitants who could, by any 
means, make it convenient, fled from the 
citj'. Of those who remained, many shut 
themselves up in their houses, being afraid 
to walk the streets. The smoke of tobacco 
being regarded as a preventive, many 
persons, even women and small boys, had 
segars almost constantly in their mouths. 
Others, placing full confidence in garlic, 
chewed it almost the whole day ; some 
kept it in their pockets and shoes. Many 



burned tobacco, sprinkled vinegar, etc. 
Churches, libraries, and other places of 
public resort, were closed. Those persons 
who ventured abroad had handkerchiefs, 
or sponges, impregnated with vinegar or 
camphor, at their noses ; some had smell- 
ing bottles full of thieves' vinegar. Others 
carried pieces of tarred rope in their hands 
and pockets, also camphor bags tied around 
their necks. The corpses of the most re- 
spectable citizens, even of those who had 
not died of the epidemic, were carried to 



YELLOW FEVEE A^D CHOLERA EPIDEMICS. 



371 



the grave on the shafts of a chair, the horse 
driven by a negro, unattended by a friend 
or relation, and without any sort of cere- 
nion}-. People uniformly and hastily shift- 
ed their course at the sight of a hearse 
coming towards them. Man}- never walked 
on the foot-path, but went in the middle 
of the streets, to avoid being infected in 
jiassing houses wherein people had died. 
Acquaintances and friends avoided each 
other in the streets, and only signified 
their regard bj' a cold nod. The old 
custom of shaking hands fell into such 
general disuse, that many recoiled with 
affright at even the offer of a hand. A 
person wearing crape, or hai'ing any other 
appearance of mourning, was shunned like 
a vijser ; and many congratulated them- 
selves highly on the skill and address with 
which they got to windward of every 
person whom they met. "When, too, the 
citizens, summoning sufficient resolution, 
walked abroad to take the air, the sight of 
the sick-cart conveying patients to the 
hospital, or the hearse carrying the dead 
to the grave, — which were traveling al- 
most the whole day, — soon damped their 
spirits, and caused them to retrace their 
steps and seek seclusion. These manifest- 
ations and characteristics prevailed alike 
during the yellow fever and the cholera. 
Consternation was carried bej'ond all 
bounds. Men of affluent fortunes were 
abandoned to the care of any stranger, 
black or white, who could by entreaty be 
procured. In some cases, no money or 
influence could procure proper attendance. 
With the poor, the case was, of course, 
immeasurably worse than with the rich. 
Many of them perished, without a human 
being to hand them a drink of water, or 
to perform any medical or charitable office. 
Some of the horrible and heart-rending 
occurrences, which transpired during these 
visitations of yellow fever and cholera, 
will suffice better than any discussions of 
symptoms and treatment, or any mere 
general representations of the public ter- 
ror and panic, to show the nature of the 
calamities that thus sv,'ept over the land, 
carrying desolation and anguish to so 



many happj' homes. The following are 
some of the instances referred to, as rela- 
ted by Carey, Simpson, and others. 

An old grave digger, named Sebastian, 
who had long lost the sense of smelling, 
fancied he could not take the disorder, and 
therefore followed his business without 
apprehension. A husband and his wife, 
who lay sick together, wished to be in- 
terred in the same grave. Their deaths 
happened within a few days of each other. 
When the latter of the two was to be 
buried, Sebastian was employed to dig 
open the other's grave. He struck upon 
and broke the coffin, and in stooping down, 
inhaled such an intolerable and deadly 
stench, that he was taken sick immedi- 
ately, and in a day or two died. 

A man and his wife, once in affluent 
circumstances, weic found lying dead in 
bed, and between them was their child, a 
little infant, who was sucking its mother's 
breast. How long they had lain thus, was 
uncertain. 

Peculiar in its sadness, was the case of 
a woman, whose husband had just died of 
the disease ; she was seized with the pains 
of parturition, and had nobody to assist 
her, as the women in the neighborhood 
were afraid to go into the house. She lay, 
for a considerable time, in a condition of 
anguish truly indescribable ; at length, 
she struggled to reach the windo^v, and 
cried out for assistance. Two men, pass- 
ing by, went up stairs ; but they came at 
too late a stage — for she was even then 
striving with death — and actually, in a 
few minutes, expired in their arms. 
Another woman, whose husband and two 
children lay dead in the room with her, 
was in the same situation as that of the 
woman just described, — without a mid- 
wife, or any other person to aid her. Her 
cries at the window brought up one of the 
carters employed for the relief of the sick. 
With his assistance she was delivered of 
a child, which died in a few minutes, 
as did the mother, who was utterly ex- 
hausted by her labor, on account of the 
disorder, and by the dreadful spectacle 
before her. And thus la}', in one room, 



372 



YELLOW FEVER AND CHOLERA EPIDEMICS. 



no less than five dead bodies, an entire 
family, carried off within a few hours. 

Before arrangements could be made and 
carried out, by the public authorities, to 
mitigate the severities pf the scourge, 
many fell victims, whose lives would oth- 
erwise, probably, have been saved. A 
servant girl, belonging to a family in 
which the malady had prevailed, becom- 
ing apprehensive of what might be her 
own fate, resolved to remove to a relation's 
house, some distance in the country. She 
was, however, taken sick on the road, and 
returned to town, where she could find no 
person willing to receive her. One of the 



inquired into the state of affairs. The 
other, to indulge the contemptible pro- 
pensity of hoaxing, told him, that a coffin- 
maker, who had been employed by the 
committee for the relief of the sick, had 
found such a decrease of demand two 
weeks before, that he had a large supply of 
coffins on hand ; but that the mortality 
had again so far increased, that he had 
sold all, and had seven journeymen em- 
ployed day and night. Alarmed at this 
information, the merchant and his family 
instantly turned back. 

Several instances occurred, of the drivers 
of the hospital wagons, on their arrival to 




nORKORS OF THE GREAT EPIDEMIC. 



guardians of the poor provided a cart, and 
took her to the almshouse, into which she 
was refused admittance. She was brought 
back, but the guardian could not procure 
her a single night's lodging ; and at last, 
after every effort to procure some kind 
of shelter, the unfortunate creature abso- 
lutely expired in the cart. 

Of the various incidents partaking of 
the extravagant and farcical, much might 
be related, A merchant of Philadelphia, 
who had been absent for several weeks, 
was returning to the city in the second 
week of November, having heard that the 
danger was no more. He met a man on 
the road going from the city, and naturally 



deliver up their charge, finding, to their 
amazement, the wagons empty. A lunatic, 
who had the malignant disorder, was ad- 
vised, by his neighbors, to go to the fever 
hospital. He consented, and got into the 
cart; but soon changing his mind, he 
slipped out at the end, unknown to the 
carter, who, after a while, missing him, 
and seeing him at a distance running away, 
turned his horse about, and trotted hard 
after I.'.-. The other doubled his pace, 
and the carter whipped his horse to a gallop ; 
but the agile lunatic turned a corner, and 
adroitly hid himself in a house, leaving the 
mortified carter to return, and deliver an 
account of his ludicrous adventure. 



YELLOW FEVER AND CHOLERA EPIDEMICS. 



373 



The wife of a man who lived in "Walnut 
street, Philadelphia, was seized with the 
disease, and given over by tlie doctors. 
The husband abandoned her, and next 
night lay out of the house for fear of catch- 
ing the infection. In the morning, taking 
it for granted, from the very low state she 
had been in, that she was dead, he pur- 
chased a ooffin for her ; but on entering 
the house, what was his astonishment to 
find her much recovered. He himself, 
however, fell sick shortly after, died, and 
was buried in tiie very coffin which he had 
so precipitately bought for his wife. An- 
other example under this class, though 
with one or two important points of differ- 
ence, is the following : A woman, whose 
husband died, refused to have him buried 
in a coffin provided for her by one of her 
friends, as too paltry and mean ; she there- 
fore bought an elegant and costly one, and 
had the other laid by in the yard. In a 
week she was herself a corpse, and was 
buried in the very coffin she had rejected. 

The jxjwers of the god of love might be 
imagined to lie dormant amidst such scenes 
of distress as were exhibited at the hos- 
pitals, during this period. But his sway 
was felt there with equal force as any- 
where else. Thus it was, that John John- 
son and Priscilla Hicks, two patients in 
the public hospital, who had recovered, 
and then officiated as nurses to the sick, 
were smitten with each other's charms, 
and, procuring leave of absence for an hour 
or two, went to the city, were joined in the 
bands of matrimony, and returned to their 
avocation at the hospital. Another adven- 
ture of the same kind, was that of Nassy, 
a Portuguese mulatto, who took to wife 
Hannah Smith, a bouncing German girl, 
employed, like himself, as a nurse. An 
instance of similar attachment is related as 
having occurred in New Orleans, when 
the epidemic was at its height, and the 
whole city was sunk in grief and mourn- 
ing. A smiling happy couple appeared 
one morning before a Catholic clergyman, 
and requested him to proclaim the bans of 
their marriage the next day. The rever- 
end gentleman was surprised that any 



persons should desire to get married at 
such a time of general misery and distress, 
and urged the couple that they should 
postpone it until the epidemic was over. 
But they declined doing so, and the priest, 
indignant at what he considered ill-timed 
levity, turned awaj-, and positively refused 
to officiate in their behalf, stating that he 
was too busy attending the sick and ad- 
ministering the last consolations to the 
dj'ing. The impatient j)air next proceeded 
to the clergyman of St. Patrick's, who 
exhibited a like surprise at the urgency of 
the parties, and at first refused to sanction 
such a marriage, but yielded at last to 
their importunities. After due publica- 
tion of the bans they were married, and 
retired to their new home to spend the 
honeymoon. In a few days, the bridal 
chamber presented a solemn and affecting 
spectacle^ The dead body of the husband 
lay on a couch, and the young and lovely 
bride writhed in agony on the bed ; she 
quickly followed him, and their honeymoon 
was passed in another world. 

Notwithstanding the devotedness and 
self-sacrifice of the clergy, generallj' speak- 
ing, during these calamities, and the 
number who thus lost their lives, there 
was occasionally an exception. An anec- 
dote, illustrating this fact, used to be 
related by the Hon. Edward Livingston, 
who was mayor of New York, while the 
plague raged in that city, and which will 
bear repetition : The violence of the epi- 
demic was beginning to abate; its attacks 
were indeed not less numerous than before, 
but the proportion of its victims was daily 
diminishing. I had a few minutes at my 
own disposal (says Livingston), and I had 
gone one evening, in a carriage, a short 
distance from the city, to breathe the pure 
air of the countrj', when I met on the road, 
at the very moment when I was about to 
return toward the city, a protestant minis- 
ter — married, and the father of a numerous 
family. He, like the rest of his co-laborers, 
had fled the fatal contagion. He was a 
man truly pious, of exemplary life, and 
presenting in his own person to his flock 
an esamjjle of the Christian virtues which 



374 



YELLOW FEVER AND CHOLERA EPIDEMICS. 



he preached to them with sincerity and 
eloquence. And yet, in the hour of 
danger, he had not remained, but had fled, 
— not for himself, — he had been carried 
away by the panic with which his family 
were seized. He asked — 

" What is going on in town, Edward ? 
Is the sickness abating ? " 

" We are doing all we can, my reverend 
friend. We are taking care of the sick. 
The physicians are discharging most nobly 
their glorious mission — but what can we 
do for men's souls? The proper material 
succors abound, for never was charity more 
lavish of its offerings ; but the bread of the 
Word is wanting. The wretched ask in 
vain for those phj-sicians of the mind dis- 
eased, whose consolations can cure the 
wounds of the spirit and rob death of its 
terrors. Well — what do you s.ay ? Here 
is room for you in my carriage. Come in ! 
— the ripe harvest is falling to the ground, 
and there are no reapers to gather it." 

The reverend gentleman pressed Liv- 
ingston's hand — pointed to his wife and 
children who were at the door of a small 
house near the road — and walked away In 
silence. Had he belonged to any other 
profession, his anxiety for his family 
might well have excused him for sharing 
in that feeling of terror which, seizing 
like a panic upon all hearts, bid fair to 
depopulate the city. It was, indeed, a 
spectacle of sadness calculated to app.al the 
stoutest heart — the mournful gloom of 
those empty streets, their silence broken 
only by the rumbling of the doad-cart and 
the driver's hoarse cry, "Bring out j'our 
dead ! " — those houses loft open and fully 
furnished, from which the owners had fled 
— that forest of shipping, deserted and 
silent as those of the western wilds, — the 
heart recoiled from such sights and con- 
tacts. On the masts of some of these ves- 
sels hung still the unfurled sail. On the 
wharves, too, might often be seen the bales 
of merchandise which terror had left there. 
There was no danger of their being carried 
off. Death was uppermost in men's 
minds ; business was forgotten ; the grave- 
yards looked like ploughed fields. 



But the anecdote of Livingston and the 
clerical friend is well offset by one related 
of the Rev. Mr. Whitall, a well-known 
Episcopal clergyman of New Orleans. 
Walking on the levee in pursuit of objects 
of charity, one day at noon, during the 
epidemic period, he was attracted to a 
number of laborers collected around some 
object. Elbowing his way through the 
crowd, Mr. Whitall found a poor laborer 
lying on the ground, violently sick with 
the prevailing disease, exposed to the 
sun, and suffering extremely. The crowd, 
though pitying his condition, appeared to 
be either too much frightened to render 
him any aid, or ignorant of how they 
could relieve him. But the experienced 
Samaritan did not long consider his duty 
on such an occasion. Seizing one of the 
wheelbarrows used in carrying bales of 
cotton from the wharves to the ships, he 
rolled it up alongside the sick man, and 
laj-ing him gently in it, wheeled his poor 
patient to the nearest hospital, and there 
secured for him such attendance as finally 
led to his recovery. 

As is usual, in times of threatened epi- 
demic, the authorities of most of the prin- 
cipal cities made due provision to avert its 
approach, by stringent sanitary regula- 
tions, or, failing in this, established hospi- 
tals for the sick, retreats in the suburbs 
for those residing in the infected districts, 
and liberal ajipropriations of food and 
money for the thousands of persons thrown 
out of employment at such a crisis. In 
some instances, these resolute proceedings 
were objected to. A few persons refused 
to go, and one man, who had been forcibly 
removed, returned clandestinely and shut 
himself in his house ; his foolish obstinacy 
was not discovered until he was found dead 
in the place he was so unwilling to leave. 
Several merchants, too, laughing at the 
precautions of the authorities, persisted in 
visiting their counting-houses situated in 
the dangerous localities; their death 
atoned for their rashness. 

Among the women, the mortality was 
not so great as among the men, nor among 
the old and infirm as among the middle- 



YELLOW FEVER AND CHOLERA EPIDEMICS, 



37-5 



aged and robust. Tipplers and drunkards, 
as well as gourmands, were very suscepti- 
ble to the disorder ; of these, many were 
seized, and the recoveries were very rare. 
To men and women of illicit pleasure, it 
was equally fatal ; the wretched, debilitated 
state of their constitutions, produced by lust 
and excess, rendered them an easy prey to 
epidemic disease, which very soon termi- 
nated their miserable career. A vast num- 
ber of female domestics likewise fell victims. 

Dreadful was the destruction among the 
poor; indeed, it is computed that at least 
seven-eighths of the number of the dead 
were of that class. The occupants of 
filthy houses severely expiated their neg- 
lect of cleanliness and decency. Whole 
families, in such houses, sunk into one 
silent, undistinguishing grave. The mor- 
tality in confined streets, small allej-s, and 
close houses, debarred of a free circulation 
of air, greatly exceeded that in the large 
streets and well-aired houses. 

Of the committee appointed in Phila- 
delphia for the relief of the sick, it is 
related by one of their number, as a fact 
of peculiar physiological interest, that sev- 
eral of its members declared that some of 
the most pleasurable hours of their exist- 
ence were spent during the heighth of the 
fever. They were released from the cares 
of business ; their committee duties fully 
occupied their minds, and engrossed their 
attention for the entire day ; they went to 
the State-house — the place of meeting — in 
the morning, after an early breakfast ; 
took a cold collation there at dinner-time, 
the materials of which were constantly 
spread on a sideboard ; and there they 
remained till night, when they returned 
to their families; custom robbed the situ- 
ation of its terrors. The only interruption 
to this state of their feelings, arose from 
the death of some friend or intimate ac- 
quaintance, or of some person whom they 
had perhaps seen alive a few hours or a 
day before. But even these sad impres- 



sions, though for the time strong and 
afflictive, soon wore away, and the tran- 
quil state returned. 

Empiricism and quackery were not in- 
active, even in times like these ; and the 
cholera was no exception among those 
" ills to which flesh is heir," for the cure 
of which charlatans had their " unfailing 
specific." But of all the nostrums thus 
brought forward, the " Vinegar of Four 
Thieves " was the most universal. A 
story was tied to its tail which gave it a 
popularity : Centuries ago, a dreadful 
plague raged in Marseilles. The people 
fled ; the city was visited by no ona 
except four thieves, who daily entered, 
robbed the houses, and carried their plun- 
der to the mountains. The astonished 
citizens, who had hid themselves in the 
dens and caves of the earth, for fear of the 
plague, saw them daily pass and re-pass 
with their ill-gotten gear, and wondered 
most profoundly why the plague did not 
seize them. In process of time, however, 
one of these thieves was captured ; they 
were just going to break him on the wheel, 
when he said if they would spare his life 
he would teach them to make the vinegar 
of four thieves, by means of which they 
had escaped the plague when robbing the 
citj', — a request which was granted. The 
"secret" thus imparted, modern quacks 
claimed to make use of in the preparation 
of a panacea for the cholera ! Of course 
the venders got rich, for, during the epi- 
demic, multitudes credulouslj' believed in 
the efficiency' of smelling thieves' vinegar, 
and treated their noses accordingly. 

Terribly as some of the cities of the 
United States have suffered from epidem- 
ics, they bear no comparison in this 
respect to the devastations by cholera in 
the cities of London and Paris, — in the 
latter of which, with true French sensibil- 
ity, the people have erected one of the 
finest monuments commemorative of the 
unfortunate victims. 



XL VII. 

MURDER OF DR. GEORGE PARKMAN, A NOTED MILLION- 
AIRE OF BOSTON. BY PROF. JOHN W. WEBSTER, OF 
HARVARD COLLEGE.— 1849. 



High Social Position of tht x-'arties. — Instantaneous Outburst of Surprise, Alarm, and Terror, in the 
Community, on the Discovery of the Deed. — Remarkable Chain of Circumstances Leading to the 
Murderer's Detection — Solemn and Exciting Trial — Account of the Mortal Blow and Disposal of the 
Remains. — Similar Case of Colt and Adams. — Parkman's Wealth and Fame — Mysterious Disappear- 
ance, November 23. — Appointment with Professor Webster, tliat Day. — Their Unhappy Pecuniary 
Relations. — Search for the Missing Millionaire. — Webster's Call on Parkman's Brother. — Explains 
the Interview of November 23. — No Trace of Parkman after that Date. — The Medical College 
Explored. — Scene in Webster's Rooms. — The Tea-Chest, Vault, and Furnace. — Human Remains 
Found There. — Identified as Dr. Parkman's. — Arrest of Webster at Night. — Attempt at Suicide on 
the Spot. — Behavior in Court. — His Atrocious Guilt Proved. — Rendering the Verdict. — He Boldly 
Addresses the Jury. — Asserts His Entire Innocence. — Final Confession of the Crime — Hung near the 
Spot of His Birth. — The Similar and Tragical Case of John C. Colt, Murderer of Samuel Adams. 



"It dnth seem too bloody. 
First, to cut off the Itcad. then hack the limbsf 
like wrath in death, and lilahce ofterwarda." 



EMORABLE, almost beyond a parallel, in the crim- 
inal annals of Amei-ica, is the great crime which 
finds its record in the following pages. The posi- 
tion of the parties, in their social and professional 
relations, the nature of the proof, and, indeed, all 
the circumstances of the case, invest the deed with 
a universal and permanent interest. 

On Friday, the twenty-third of November, 1849, 
Dr. George Parkman, one of the wealthiest and best 
known citizens of Boston, of an old family, and 
highly respected, one of the founders of the Massa- 
chusetts Medical College there, about sixty years of 
PBOF. wr.nsTru'.s murder appliances, age, of rather remarkable person and very active 
habits, was walking about the city, and transacting business as usual — one of his last 
acts, on that day, being the purchase of some lettuce for the dinner of his invalid daugh- 
ter ; the only other members of his family being his wife, and one son, who was then 
traveling on the continent of Europe. Being one of the most punctual of men, his 
absence from the family table at half-past three o'clock excited surprise ; and on the 
evening of the same day there was serious apprehension, his absence still continuing 
unexplained. It was thought best to postpone all public search until Saturday after- 




MURDER OF DR. GEORGE PARKMAN. 



•6T 



noon ; at two o'clock, therefore, there being 
no tidings of him, a most vigorous and 
minute search was instituted by his 
friends, with the aid of the police force of 
Boston and of advertisements offering 
large rewards for such intelligence as 
should lead to his discovery. He was 
described as sixty j-ears of age, about five 
feet and nine inches high, gray hair, thin 
face, with a scar under the chin, light com- 
plexion, and usually a rapid walker; he 
was dressed in a dark frock coat, dark pan- 
taloons, purple silk vest, dark figured black 
stock, and black hat. The search was 
continued without intermission until the 
following Friday', men being sent in all 
directions for fifty or sixty miles, on all 
the railroads, to all the towns on the coast ; 
they searched over land and water, and 
under water. 

It was known the next Sunday follow- 
ing his disappearance, that on the previous 
Friday, at half-past one o'clock, Doctor 
Parkman had, by appointment, met with 
Dr. John W. Webster (Professor of Chem- 
istry in Harvard University, and Lecturer 
on Chemistry in the Medical College, Bos- 
ton,) in his rooms at the Medical College, 
and no further trace could be found ; the 
fact of this interview having been first 
communicated by Professor Webster. 

The nature of this interview, and the 
circumstances under which it took place, 
may be here stated. In 1842, Doctor Park- 
man had lent Professor Webster, on his 
promissory note, four hundred dollars, and 
in 1847 a further advance was made to 
Professor Webster bj' Doctor Parkman and 
some other parties, in acknowledgment of 
which there was a promissory note given 
Doctor Parkman for two thousand four hun- 
dred and thirty-two dollars, payable by 
yearly installments in four years ; a balance 
due on a former note, to the amount of 
three hundred and thirty-two dollars, 
being included. Doctor Parkman had held 
two mortgages ; one to secure the four 
hundred dollar note, which was given in 
1842, and another which secured that note, 
and the other large note given in 1847. 
The mortgage which was given in 1847, 



covered all Professor Webster's household 
furniture, his books, and all his minerals, 
and other objects of natural history. That 
cabinet, however, he secretly disposed of, 
so that all that was left to secure that 
mortgage was the household furniture, and 
what books he may have had. From a 
memorandum, prepared in April, 1849, it 
was shown that the amount of Professor 
Webster's debt to Doctor Parkman was, at 
that time, four hundred and fifty-six dol- 
lars, being made up of three items due at 
different times. Doctor Parkman had for 
some time pressed urgently for the balance 
due to himself, and there were frequent 
and by no means friendly communications 
between the parties on the subject. 

The account given by Professor Web- 
ster to the Rev. Dr. Francis Parkman — 
with whom he was on intimate terms, 
having formerly been a member of his 
congregation, and having very recently 
received from him pastoral offices, — of the 
last interview with his missing brother, 
was, that he called upon Doctor Parkman 
at half-past nine o'clock on the morning of 
Friday, Noveu:ber twenty-third, and ar- 
ranged that tne doctor should meet him at 
the college at half-past one ; that Doctor 
Parkman came at that hour, having some 
papers in his hand, and received from 
Professor Webster four hundred and 
eighty-three dollars, and some odd cents, 
upon which Doctor Parkman took out one 
of the notes, and hurriedly dashing his pen 
across the signature, went away in great 
haste, leaving the note behind him, saying, 
as he left the room, that he would have the 
mortgage canceled. On the last interview 
between them in the presence of any 
witness, and which took place in the col- 
lege on the previous Mondaj', Doctor Park- 
man indignantly complained to Professor 
Webster that the cabinet of minerals, which 
was mortgaged to him in security of the 
advances he made, had been afterwards 
fraudulently sold to his brother-in-law, Mr. 
Robert G. Shaw ; and to another person 
he made some very severe remarks in rela- 
tion to this transaction, substantially, if 
not in express terms, charging Professor 



378 



MURDER OF DR. GEORGE PARKMAE". 



Webster with dishonesty. At parting, Doc- 
tor Parkman is reported to have said with 
much energy, "something must be done 
to-morrow!" The following day. Profes- 
sor Webster sent a note to Doctor Park- 
man, in response to which tlie doctor went 
out to Cambridge, on Thursday, to Profes- 
sor Webster's house. 

Every clue discovered led the searchers 
back to the medical college in Boston, and 
there ended ; no person being to be found 
who had spoken with Doctor Parkman 
after his interview with Professor Webster. 
Along with other buildings, the college 
was searched ; first on Monday — slightly, 
and merely by way of excuse for searching 
other houses in the neighborhood, — and 
again upon Tuesday, but with no serious 
suspicions and with no discovery, Profes- 
sor Webster cheerfully accompanying the 
oflScers through his own apartments. 

In the meantime, another investigation 
had been going on in the hands of Little- 
field, the janitor of the college, who had as 
early as Sunday evening begun to enter- 
tain suspicions, which all his subsequent 
assiduous watching increased, and which 
led to the discovery, upon Friday, in the 
laboratorj', and in a vault connected with 
it, of certain human remains, believed to 
be those of Doctor Parkman, and to the 
apprehension and ultimately to the trial of 
Professor Webster on the charge of 
murder. It was a case, in comparison 
with which, those of Hare, Averj-, Robin- 
son, Strang, Ward, Washburn, Thomas, 
and Rogers, appear but ordinary. 

The premises in the medical college used 
by Professor Webster, consisted of a lec- 
ture-room in front; an upper laboratory 
behind the lecture-room, furnished with a 
stove, water and a sink, and a small room 
adjoining, where chemical materials were 
kept These were on the first floor. On 
the basement story there was a lower lab- 
oratory, reached by a staircase from the 
upper one ; this contained an assay fur- 
nace, was provided with water and a sink, 
had a store-room adjoining, and a private 
closet, with an opening into a vault at the 
base of the building, into which vault the 



sea-water had access through the stones of 
the wall, which had been some years 
before slightly pushed out of their original 
position. Into this vault there was no 
opening except that in the private closet. 
After all the other parts of the college had 
been repeatedly searched without success, 
the janitor resolved to make an examina- 
tion of this vault, which he effected by 
secretly breaking a hole through the brick 
and lime wall, at a point almost directly 
under the private closet, taking care to 
work only during Professor Webster's 
absence. 




On the afternoon of Friday, the thirtieth 
of November, exactly a week after Doctor 
Parkman's disappearance, the opening was 
made ; and there were discovered, lying in 
the vault, parts of a male human body. 
These consisted of the pelvis or hip bones, 
the right thigh from the hip to the knee, 
and the left leg, from the knee to the 
ankle. 

In consequence of this disclosure. Pro- 
fessor Webster was immediately appre- 
hended; and a more careful search was 
made in the laboratory on the next and 
the following days, which resulted in fur- 
ther discoveries. Buried among tan in a 
tea-chest, and covered with specimens of 
minerals, there were found a large hunt- 
ing-knife ; a thorax or chest, with both 
clavicles and scapulae attached, and having 
a perforation in the region of the heart ; 
and a left thigh, to which a piece of string 



MURDER OF DR. GEORGE PARKMAN. 



379 



was fastened. In the ashes of the furnace, 
also, were found grains of gold, a pearl 
shirt button, a human tooth, blocks of 
mineral teeth, and about fifty fragments 
of bone belonging to the skull, face, and 
other parts of the human body. There 
was also found in the laboratory a large 
double-edged sheath-knife — called also a 
Turkish knife — a small saw, a hammer, 
and some other articles. 

In arresting Professor Webster, three 
of the Boston police proceeded at night, 
under the direction of Mr. Clapp, in a 
coach, to his residence in Cambridge, on 
knocking at the door of which and inquir- 
ing for the professor, the account of what 
transpired is as follows : That he came for- 
ward to see what was wanted ; we told him 
that we wanted him to go with us and as- 
sise at one more search of the medical col- 
lege. He said something about its hav- 
ing been searched two or three times 
before, but was very willing to accompany 
us, and putting off his slippers, drew on 
his boots, and came out. Just as we 
started, he remarked that he had forgotten 
iis keys, and would go back and get them ; 
he was told that they had keys enough to 
unlock all the rooms in the college, and it 
would not be necessary for him to go back 
after them — he said it was very well, and 
got into the coach. The driver turned 
toward Boston, and on the way Professor 
Webster conversed on indifferent subjects. 
The conversation finally fell upon the dis- 
appearance of Doctor Parkman. Profes- 
sor Webster remarked that a Mrs. Bent, 
of Cambridge, had seen Doctor Parkman 
at a very late hour on the Friday evening 
when he disappeared, and he said as she 
lived near the bridge, it might be well to 
call and see her ; this was declined, with 
the reply that they could go some other 
time. 

On the party coming over the bridge, 
Professor Webster asked if anything fur- 
ther had been done in the search for the 
doctor; he was told that the doctor's hat 
had been found in the water at Charles- 
town, and that the river had been dragged 
above and below the bridge. As the coach 



went along, the driver passed be3'ond the 
street leading to the college, and directed 
his way up towards the jail. Professor 
Webster remarked that he was going in a 
wrong direction. To this, policeman Clapp 
made reply, that the coachman was a new 
hand and somewhat green, but he would 
doubtless discover and rectify his mistake. 
This reason satisfied him. The coachman 
still drove on, and shortly after arrived at 
the jail. Clapp got out of the coach and 
went into the jail, to see if there were any 
spectators there — found there were not, 
and then went back and said to those in 
the coach, " I wish, gentlemen, you would 
alight here for a few moments." The offi- 
cers got out of the coach, and the professor 
followed. They passed into the outer 
office, and Clajip then said, " Gentlemen, 
I guess we had better walk into the inner 
office." Looking strangely at Clapp, Pro- 
fessor Webster said — 

" What is the meaning of all this?" 
" Professor Webster," replied Mr. Clapp, 
"you will jserhaps remember that in com- 
ing over Cambridge bridge, I told j'ou that 
the river above and below it had been 
dragged ; we have also been dragging in 
the college, and we have been looking for 
the body of Dr. Parkman. You are now 
in custody, on the charge of being his mur- 
derer ! " 

On hearing thia announcement, he ut- 
tered two or three sentences which were 
not distinctly understood, but which were 
supposed at the time to refer to the nature 
of the crime with which he was charged ; 
he finally spoke plainly, and said he would 
like his family to be told of his arrest. 
Mr. Clapp replied, that if his family were 
informed, as he requested, it would be a 
sad night to them, and advised him far- 
ther — as he was beginning to talk — that 
he would better Jiot say anything to any- 
body at that time. On afterwards carry- 
ing the prisoner to the college and laborar 
tory, he was greatly agitated, and looked 
as though he did not know what was going 
on about him. He appeared to act pre- 
cisely as some persons are known to when 
in delirium tremens ; some one handed 



380 



MURDER OF DR. GEORGE PARKMA^. 



him water, but he could not drinlc, and 
snapped at the glass like a mad dog. 
Concerning this period, Professor Web- 
ster states, in his own words : ' When I 
found the carriage was stopping at tlie 
jail, I was sure of my fate. Before leav- 
ing the carriage I took a dose of strych- 
nine from my pocket and swallowed it. I 
had prepared it in the shape of a pill be- 
fore I left my laboratory on the twenty- 
third. I thought I could not bear to sur- 
vive detection. I thought it was a large 
dose. The state of my nervous system 
probably defeated its action partially.' 

After a long investigation of the case, 
the grand jury found an indictment against 




the prisoner for the murder of Doctor 
Parkman, which came on for trial at Bos- 
ton, before Chief Justice Shaw and three 
associate justices, Wilde, Metcalf, and 
Dewey, of the supreme judicial court of 
IMassachusetts, upon the nineteenth of 
March, 1850. Some time before the 
judges took their places upon the bench. 
Professor Webster, — until now the inti- 
mate companion of senators, judges, di- 
vines, men of literature and science — 
entered, and immediately took his seat in 
the felon's dock. His step was light and 
elastic, in crossing towards his place, and 
his countenance betrayed a marked degree 
of calm and dignified composure. On sit- 
ting down, he smiled, as he saluted several 
of his friends and acquaintances, to some 



of whom he familiarly nodded ; and a 
stranger would have taken him for an or- 
dinary spectator. He wore his spectacles, 
and sat with ease and dignity in the dock, 
occasionally shaking hands with friends. 
The countenance of Professor Webster in- 
dicated strong animal passions, and irasci- 
ble temperament. The cheek-bones high, 
and the mouth, with compressed lips, be- 
traj'ed great resolution and firmness of 
character. The forehead inclined to an- 
gular, rather low, and partially' retreating. 
Standing below the middle height, and by 
no means a man of muscular strength, his 
general appearance made no very favorable 
impression. On the reading of the indict- 
ment, by the clerk, the prisoner stood up 
in the dock and listened with marked at- 
tention. Almost every eye was turned 
towards him at this time, but he exhibited 
the same self-possession and determined 
control as from the first, pleading 'Not 
Guilty,' in a strong and emphatic tone of 
voice. Ex-Governor Clifford was his sen- 
ior counsel. 

The trial lasted during eleven days, 
there having been no fewer than one hun- 
dred and sixteen witnesses examined — 
forty-seven of them being called on behalf 
of the accused, including his professional 
friends and neighbors, Presidents Sparks 
and Walker, Professors Peirce, Bowen, 
Hosford, Palfrej-, and Wyman. Scientific 
testimony was also given by Prof. 0. W. 
Holmes, and others ; and the court sat 
eight or nine hours each day. The testi- 
mony was of a most deeply interesting 
and exciting character. The various parts 
of the body found in the vault, furnace, 
and tea-chest, were, by the marvelous and 
beautiful science of anatomy, under the 
skillful hand of Prof. Jeffries Wyman, re- 
integrated, and found to constitute a 
body, positively recognized by some of 
Doctor Parkman's intimate associates as 
his. Doctor Keep identified the mineral 
teeth as the set made by him for the doc- 
tor. The general figure and appearance 
indicated by the remains, including a very 
peculiar hairiness of the back, corresponded 
perfectly with Doctor Parkman's; the 



MURDER OF DR. GEORGE PARKMAJT. 



381 



height, which, on the evidence of the anat- 
omists examined, 'could be determined 
certainly within half an inch/ was just 
the same ; the form of the lower jaw, too, 
shown b3'' four fragments of the right half, 
implied a rising chin, which was so jiromi- 
nent a feature of the doctor. Every cir- 
cumstance brought forward tended to show 
that Doctor Parkman's last known where- 
abouts was at the medical college, on the 
day when he was there to meet Professor 
Webster ; that the remains found in the 
apartments of the latter were those of the 
doctor ; that the professor, during the 
week succeeding the day of Doctor Park- 
man's disappearance, was locked in his 
laboratory at unusual hours ; that during 
that week, intense fires had been kept up 
in the furnace, and water was used in pro- 
digious quantities. So overwhelming was 
the evidence substantiating these and kin- 
dred facts, and so strong and unbroken the 
chain of circumstances which connected 
Professor Webster's movements with the 
great and awful deed, that the verdict of 
guilty seemed inevitable, when the ques- 
tion should be finally passed upon by the 
jury. But, through all the protracted 
trial, the prisoner maintained perfect com- 
posure, even when facts and objects were 
disclosed which would have made most 
men tremble. He also had the hardihood 
to address the jury, previous to the charge 
from the bench, explaining away the evi- 
dence against him, and asserting his en- 
tire innocence. 

At the conclusion of the judge's charge, 
the case was committed to the jury, and 
in about three hours they returned to de- 
liver their verdict. Professor Webster al.so 
soon appeared in the charge of an oflScer ; 
he moved with a quick, nervous step, and 
took his place in a chair beside the prison- 
er's dock, which he soon after changed for 
the arm-chair in the iron picket inclosures. 
His appearance was pale and thoughtful, 
with a serious dejectedness which was ap- 
parent in the contraction of the muscles 
about the mouth. The profound and 
death-like stillness was now broken by the 
clerk, who said — 



" Gentlemen of the jury, have you agreed 
on a verdict ? " 

" We have," was the response. 

" Who shall speak for 3'ou, gentlemen ? " 

" The foreman," answered some of the 
jury. 

"John W. Webster, hold up your right 
hand," said the clerk. 

The prisoner rose and looked steadily 
and intensely upon the foreman ; and the 
clerk then continued — 

" Mr. Foreman, look upon the prisoner. 
Prisoner, look upon the jury." 

Professor Webster still maintained his 
fixed and intense look of inquiry upon the 
foreman, trying to gather from his coun- 
tenance some indication of the sentiments 
of the jury upon which depended life or 
death to him. 

" What say j-ou, Mr. Foreman, is John 
W. Webster, the prisoner at the bar, guilty, 
or not guiltj' ? " demanded the clerk. 

" Guilfj/ /" was the solemn response. 

When the foreman pronounced the word 
Guilty, the prisoner started, like a person 
shot; and his hand, which had hitherto 
been held erect, fell to the bar in front of 
him with a dead sound, as if he had sud- 
denly been dejjrived of muscular action. 
He soon sat down ; his chin drooped upon 
his breast. He put his hand up to his 
face, but his nerves trembled so that he 
appeared to be fumbling with his fingers 
under his spectacles, and, shutting his 
eyes, he gave a deep, heart-breaking sigh, 
which spoke of the inexpressible anguish 
of his soul. All eyes were fixed in sad- 
ness upon the doomed man. On the en- 
suing Monday he received his sentence to 
be hung. 

Subsequently, proceedings were taken, 
but unsuccessful, on the part of Professor 
Webster, to set aside the trial, on the 
ground of some alleged technical informal- 
ities; and a petition to Governor Briggs, 
— likewise unavailing — for a commutation 
of the sentence, on the ground that the 
killing, now confessed by Professor Web- 
ster, was done in the heat of excessive 
provocation. In this confession. Professor 
Webster states, as follows, the manner in 



382 



MURDER OF DR. GEORGE PARKMAII. 



which the murder was committed : — Doc- 
tor Parkman agreed to call on me as I 
proposed. He came, accordingl3', between 
half-past one and two o'clock, entering at 
the lecture-room door. I was engaged in 
removing some lecture-room glasses from 
my table into the room in the rear, called 
the upper laboratory. He came rapidly 
down the step, and followed me into the 
laboratory. He immediately addressed 
me with great energy — 'Are you ready 
for me, sir ? Have you got the money ? ' 
I replied, 'No, Doctor Parkman;' and I 
was then beginning to state my condition 
and my appeal to him, but he would not 
listen to me, and interrupted me with 
much vehemence. He called me a scoun- 
drel and a liar, and went on heaping on 



obtain the object for which I sought the 
interview, but I could not stop him, and 
soon my own temper was up; I forgot 
everything, and felt nothing but the sting 
of his words. I was excited to the highest 
degree of passion, and while he was speak- 
ing and gesticulating in the most violent 
and menacing manner, thrusting the letter 
and his fist into my face, in my fury I 
seized whatever thing was handiest, (it 
was a stick of wood,) and dealt him an 
instantaneous blow with all the force that 
passion could give it. I did not know, or 
think, or care, where I should hit him, nor 
how hard, nor what the effect would be. 
It was on the side of his head, and there 
was nothing to break the force of the blow. 
He fell instantly upon the pavement. 




piiottsauu WbUaTtu's uell is fkison. 



me the most bitter taunts and opprobrious 
epithets. While he was speaking, he drew 
out a handful of papers from his pocket, 
and took from among them my two notes, 
and also an old letter from Doctor Hosack, 
written many j'ears ago, congratulating 
him on his success in getting me appointed 
Professor of Chemistry. ' You see,' he 
said, ' I was the means of getting you into 
your office, and now I will get you out of 
it.' He put back into his pocket all the 
papers except the letters and the notes. 
I cannot tell how long the torrent of 
threats and invectives continued, and I 
can recall to memory but a small portion 
of what he said ; at first I kept interpos- 
ing, trying to pacify him, so that I might 



There was no second blow ; he did not 
move. I stooped down over him, and he 
seemed to be lifeless. Blood flowed from 
his mouth, and I got a sponge and wiped 
it away. I got some ammonia and ap- 
plied it to his nose, but without effect. 
Perhaps I spent ten minutes in attempts 
to resuscitate him, but I found he was ab- 
solutely dead. In my horror and conster- 
nation I ran instinctivelj' to the doors and 
bolted them, the doors of the lecture-room, 
and of the laboratory below. And then, 
what was I to do ? It never occurred to 
me to go out and declare what had been 
done, and obtain assistance. I saw noth- 
ing but the alternative of a successful 
movement and concealment of the body on 



MUEDER OF DR. GEORGE PAEKMA:^r. 



383 



the one hand, and of infamy and destruc- 
tion on the other. The first thing I did, 
as soon as I could do anything, was to 
draw the body into tlie private room ad- 
joining, where I took off the clothes and 
began putting them into the fire, which 
was burning in the upper laboratory. 
They were all consumed there that after- 
noon. 

The painful details of the separation 
and disposal of the parts are then described 
by Professor Webster, — the body dismem- 
bered ; the head, viscera, and some of the 
limbs thrown into the fire of the furnace, 
' and fuel heaped on ; ' and the remainder 
of the body put in two cisterns with water, 
one of which was under the lid of the lec- 
ture-room table, and the other in the lower 
laboratory, into the latter of which a 
quantity of potash was at the same time 
thrown. 

In continuation of this ghastly narrative. 
Professor Webster says : — When the body 
had been thus all disposed of, I cleared 
away all traces of what had been done. I 
think the stick witli which the fatal blow- 
had been struck, proved to be a piece of 
the stump of a large grape-vine — say two 
inches in diameter, and two feet long. It 
was one of several pieces which I had 
carried in from Cambridge long before, 
for the purpose of showing the effect of 
certain chemical fluids in coloring wood, 
by being absorbed into the pores. The 
grape-vine, being a very porous wood, was 
well adapted for that purpose. Another 
longer stick had been used as intended, 
and exhibited to the students. This one 
had not been used. I put it into the fire. 
I took up the two notes either from the 
table or the floor ; I think the table, close 
by where Doctor Parkman had fallen. I 
seized an old metallic pen lying on the 
table, dashed it across the face, and 
through the signatures, and put them in 
my pocket. I do not know why I did this 
rather than put them in the fire, for I had 
not considered for a moment what effect 
either mode of disposing of them would 
have on the mortgage, or my indebtedness 
to Doctor Parkman and the other persons 



interested, and I had not j-et given a sin- 
gle thought to the question as to what 
account I should give of the object or re- 
sult of my interview with Doctor Park- 
man. I left the college to go home as late 
as six o'clock. I collected myself as well 
as I could, that I might meet my family 
and others with composure. 

It was on Sunday that Professor Web- 
ster, according to his own assertion, for 
the first time made up his mind what 
course to take, and what account to give 
of the appointed meeting between him and 
Doctor Parkman; that on the same day 
he looked into the laboratory but did noth- 
ing; on Monday, after the officers' visit 
of search to the college, he threw the parts 
which had been under the lecture-table 
into the vault, and packed the thorax into 
the tea-chest ; the perforation of the tho- 
rax -was made by the knife ; and at the 
time of removing the viscera on Wednes- 
day, he put on kindlings, and made a fire 
in the furnace below, having first poked 
down the ashes ; some of the limbs were 
consumed at this time. This, he says, 
was the last he had to do with the remains. 
The fish-hooks, tied up as grapples, were 
to be used for drawing up the parts in the 
vault. On the very night of the murder, 
he and his family made a neighborly call 
at Professor Treadwell's, passing the even- 
ing in social conversation and playing 
whist ! It was that baneful feature in 
American society — extravagance — which 
alone brought Webster to calculate the life 
of his creditor and benefactor, and which, 
in so many other eminent examples, like 
those of Huntington, Ketchum, Edwards, 
Schuyler, and Gardiner, took the shape of 
gigantic frauds and peculation. 

So plain were the facts involving Pro- 
fessor Webster's terrible guilt, however, 
that no efforts to palliate his atrocious 
crime had the least effect upon the public 
mind in lightening the crushing weight 
of infamy from his name, nor did the arm 
of retributive justice for a moment swerve 
or falter. Upon a scaffold, in the same 
quarter of his native city where he and his 
victim first breathed the breath of life, and 



384 



MURDER OF DR. GEORGE PARKMAJ^. 



in full view of the classic halls of Harvard 
College, John White Webster paid the 
extreme penalty of the law, and his form 
now lies interred in one of the sequestered 
dells of Mount Auburn, not far from the 
spot where rest the shattered remains of 
the ill-fated Parkman. Professor Webster 
owed his appointment at Harvard Univer- 
sity to the influence of Doctor Parkman 
and the eminent and honored Dr. Cas- 
par Wistar, of Philadelphia, president of 
the American Philosophical Society. 

No such deep and wide-spread excite- 
ment had, for many years, attended any 
other of the numerous murders committed 
for pecuniary motives, excepting, perhaps, 
the cold-blooded killing of Samuel Adams, 
a highly respected printer, by John C. 
Colt, author of the system of book-keeping 
and penmanship bearing his name, and 
brother of the well-known inventor of the 
revolver. This deed occurred in the city 
of New York, in September, 1841. Colt 
had for some time owed Adams a bill for 
printing, which he was unprepared to p.ay. 
The final call made by Adams, at Colt's 
room on Broadway, for a settlement of 
the account, resulted in a tragedy rarely 
equaled in the annals of crime. 

Por some daj's, the mysterious absence 
of Mr. Adams was the subject of universal 
comment in the newspaper press. The 
discovery of the murder was made through 
the instrumentality of Mr. Wheeler, who 
occupied a room adjoining that of Colt. 
About four o'clock, p. m., on the day of 
Mr. Adams's disappearance, Mr. Wheeler 
thought he heard an unusual noise in 
Colt's room, and was induced to go to the 
door and rap. Not receiving any answer, 
he looked through the key-hole, and saw 
two hats standing upon a table, and Colt 
kneeling upon the floor, as if scrubbing it. 
After waiting a little while, Mr. Wheeler 
peeped into the key-hole again, and saw 
Colt still engaged in the same operation. 
This excited his suspicions, and he caused 
a person to watch at the door all night. 
In the morning, Colt was seen to take a 
box, about four feet long and two high, 
down stairs. The box was directed to 



somebody in St. Louis, via New Orleans. 
Mr. Wheeler gave information of these 
facts to the mayor, who immediately insti- 
tuted search for the box ; it was found, 
after some difficulty, on board of the ship 
Kalamazoo, and in it the body of Mr. Ad- 
ams, wrapped up in sail-cloth and sprinkled 
with salt and chloride of lime. 

Colt was at once arrested, and an indict- 
ment for willful and deliberate murder 
found against him. His trial resulted in 
his conviction ; and, notwithstanding the 
efforts of numerous and powerful friends, 
and the lavish use of money, in his behalf, 
the fatal day arrived when lie was to pay 
the extreme penalty of the law for his 
great crime. The scaffold was erected — 
the whole city surged with excitement — 
the crowd gathered around the prison was 
immense. 

At eleven o'clock. Rev. Dr. Anthon vis- 
ited Colt's cell, in company with Colt's 
brother, for the purpose of marrying the 
murderer to his mistress, Caroline Hen- 
shaw. The ceremony was performed, Colt 
manifesting a deej) interest in their child. 
He also handed a package containing five 
hundred dollars for its benefit to Doctor 
Anthon, who proffered to become sponsor 
for it, which was eagerly accepted by Colt. 

About one o'clock, Colt's brother, Sam- 
uel, again arrived, and entered the cell. 
Colt was still engaged in conversation with 
his wife, who was sitting on the foot of the 
bed, convulsed with tears. At Colt's re- 
quest, John Howard Payne and Lewis Gay- 
lord Clarke then went into the cell to take 
their leave of him. Colt appeared exceed- 
ingly pleased to see them, shook them cor- 
dially by the hand, and conversed with ap- 
jjarent cheerfulness with them for five 
minutes, when they bade him farewell, both 
of them in tears. Colt's wife, and his 
brother Samuel, also soon left, both deeply 
affected. The wife could scarcely support 
herself, so violent were her feelings and 
acute her sufferings. She stood at the 
door of the cell for a minute — Colt kiss- 
ing her passionately, straining her to his 
bosom, and watching intensely her reced- 
ing form, as she passed into the corridor. 



MURDER OF DR. GEORGE PARKMAK 



385 



Here slie stood and sobbed convulsively-, 
as though her heart would break, until led 
away by friends. 

Colt now desired to see the sheriff, who 
went into his cell. Colt then told him 
emphatically that he was innocent of the 
murder of Adams, and that he never in- 
tended to kill him ; he also said that he 
had hopes that something would intervene 
to save him from being hung, and begged 
the sheriff not to execute the sentence of 
the law upon him. The sheriff told him 
to banish all hope of that kind, for he 
must die at four o'clock. He then asked 
to see Doctor Anthon, who went into his 
cell, and remained in prayer with him 
about ten minutes. At the close of this, 
Colt again sent for the sheriff, and said to 
him, " If there are any gentlemen present 
who wish to see me, and take their leave 
of me, I shall be happy to see them." 

This was announced by the sheriff, and 
all present, with one or two exceptions, 
passed up to his cell door, shook him by 
the hand, and took their leave of him. 
To one gentleman connected with the 
press, he said : " I've spoken harshly of 
some of the press, but I do not blame you 
at all ; it was all my own fault. There 
were things that ought to have been ex- 
plained. I know you have a good heart, 
and I forgive 3'ou from my soul freely ; 
may God bless you, and may you prosper." 

He then requested the keeper, Mr. 
Greene, to let him be left alone until the 
last moment. Tliis ^ras about two o'clock. 
His cell was closed, and he was left alone 
till twenty minutes to three, when some 
friends of the sheriff, apprehending that 
an attempt at suicide might be made by 
Colt, desired deputy sheriff Hillyer to go 
to Colt's cell door, and request to wish him 
' good bye.' Colt was then walking up 
26 



and down his cell, but turned around on the 
door opening, smiled on Hillyer, shook him 
by the hand and kis«ed him, as lie did sev- 
eral of those who had just previously bid 
him farewell in this life. He said to Hill- 
yer, " God bless you, and may you prosper 
in this life, which is soon to close on me." 
From this time, the excitement around 
the prison increased tremendously, and the 
feelings of those in the prison were also 
worked up to a pitch of great intensity. 
No one, however, entered his cell till pre- 
cisely five minutes to four o'clock, at which 
time Sheriffs Hart and Westervelt, dressed 
in uniform, and accompanied by Doctor 
Anthon, proceeded to the cell. On the 
keeper opening the door. Doctor Anthon, 
who was first, threw up his hands and ej'es 
to Heaven, and uttering a faint ejaculation, 
turned pale as death and retired. "As I 
thought," said the keeper. " As I thought," 
said others. And going into the cell, there 
lay Colt on his back, stretched out at full 
length on the bed, quite dead, but not 
cold. A clasp knife, like a small dirk 
knife, with a broken handle, was sticking 
in his heart. He had stabbed himself 
about the fifth rib, on the left side. His 
temples were yet warm. His vest was 
open, the blood had flowed freely, and his 
hands, which were lying across the stom- 
ach, were very bloody ; he had evidently 
worked and turned the knife round and 
round in his heart after stabbing himself, 
until he made quite a large gash. His 
mouth was open, his eyes partially so, and 
his body lay as straight on the bed as if 
laid out for a funeral b}' others. Most 
strange to say, just at this moment, the 
large cupola of the prison was discovered 
to be on fire, and burned furiousl}'. The 
scene and circumstances were tragical to a 
degree altogether indescribable. 



XLVIII. 

BRILLIANT MUSICAL TOUR OF JENNY LIND, THE 
"SWEDISH NIGHTINGALE."— 1850. 



Tin's Queen of Song Comes under the Auspices of Mr. Barnum. — Twenty Thousand Persons Welcome 
Her Arrival. — Transcendent Beauty and Power of Her Voice. — A Whole Continent Enraptured With 
Her Enchanting Melodies. — Pleasant Exhilaration of Feeling Throughout the Land by the Presence 
of the Fair Nightingale. — Honors from Webster, Clay, and Other Dignitaries. — Her Praises Fill the 
Wide World. — The Vocal Prodigy of the Age. — In Opera, " The Daughter of the Kegiment." — Bar- 
num's Happy Conception. — Proposes to Her this American Tour. — His Generous Terms Accepted. — 
She Reaches New York. — Sunny and Joyous Outburst. — A Real " Jenny Lind " Era — First Concert at 
Castle Garden. — Tempest of Acclamation. — Encores, Showers of Bouquets. — Public Expectation 
Exceeded. — Jenny's Complete Triumph. — All the Receipts Given to Charity. — Equal Enthusiasm 
Everywhere. — Beautiful Incidents. — She is a Guest at the While House. — Henry Clay at Her Con- 
cert. — Webster and the Nightingale. — A Scene " Not Down on the Bills." — Ninety-Five Concerts 
Yield $700,000. 




** So soft, so clear, ^et in ko sweet a note. 
It seemed the music melted in ber Bpirit." 



' EALOUSLY watching, with a practiced professional eye, every opportu- 
nity to cater to tlie ever-varj'ing tastes of a pleasure-loving public, Mr. 
Barnum, the "prince of showmen," conceived the felicitous idea of 
inviting the renowned Swedish songstress, Jenny Lind, whose praise 
filled the wide world as that of a very divinity, to enter into an engage- 
ment with him to visit the United States, on a prolonged musical tour, 
under his managing auspices; and this enterj^rising design, the accom- 
plished showman in due time brought successfully about, — its consum- 
mation forming one of the most brilliant, joyous and exhilarating 
episodes, viewed from whatever aspect, in the experience of the American nation, — an 
outburst of sunny excitement and delight, all over the land, at the presence of that tran- 
scendent musical genius, that wonderful vocal prodigy, of modern times. 

But before proceeding to the details of this splendid and triumphant tour, some 
account of the distinguished songstress, in respect to her fascinating jjersonal history 
and previous public career, will be in place, — derived and condensed from authentic 
sources, — presenting, as it does, such peculiar points of interest. 

The "Swedish nightingale" — the "divine Jenny," — as she came to be called, as her 
powers of song were developed, was born at Stockholm, in 1821, and her taste for music 
was indicated while yet in her third j'ear. At nine or ten, her parents, who were in 
reduced circumstances, suffered her to go upon the stage, where her success in juvenile 
characters was astonishing. But when she had reached her twelfth year, after receiving 



BRILLIANT MUSICAL TOUR OF JENNY LIND. 



387 



instruction from some of the first music 
masters, she lost her voice. Loving music 
for its own sake, the "nightingale" was 
bitterly afflicted at this calamit;', the more 
especially as her voice had become a source 
of comfortable existence. At sixteen, 
however, it returned, to her infinite joy, 
under the following peculiar circumstances. 

At a concert, in which the fourth act of 
Meyerbeer's Robert le Diable had been 
announced, it was suddenly discovered that 
a singer to take the part of Alice was 
wanting. A short solo being all that 
Alice has to sing in this act, none of the 
professionals were found desirous of under- 
taking the character. So trifling a part, 
her teacher thought, would not be marred, 
even by Jenny LinJ, and accordingly she 
was intrusted with the execution of the 
insignificant solo. As, from the most arid 
spot in the desert, water, sparkling and 
fresh, will sometimes gush forth, so broke 
out, on this occasion, the rich fountain of 
song which had so long been latent in the 
humble and hitherto silent nightingale. 
Her voice returne'' with all its pristine 
sweetness, and with more than its early 
power, and the most overwhelming ajj- 
plause followed the unexpected discovery 
of this mine of melod}'. 

All doubt as to her lyrical excellence 
T.'as now gone, and towards the winter of 
1838, she made her first appearance on the 
stage as a singer, in the character of 
Agatha, in Der Frieschutz. Her exquisite 
f-inging, and her acting, abounding in 
point and originality, created a deep lien- 
sation ; and she won new laurels by her 
representation of Alice, in the spring of 
18.39, and fully established her fame by 
her subsequent performance of Lucia, in 
Lucia di Lammermoor. She afterwards 
visited Paris, to receive lessons from 
Garcia, the father and instructor of the 
ill-fated Madame Malibran, — a vocalist 
who, like Jenny Lind, carried with her the 
hearts of her auditory. The reception 
which that eminent composer gave her 
\7as, at first, rather discouraging. After 
li?aring her sing, he said — 

•'•'My dear young lady, you have no 



voice; you have had a voice, and will lose 
it ; you have been singing too early or too 
much, and your voice is worn to ruin. I 
cannot instruct 3-ou — I cannot give you 
any hope at present. Sing not a note for 
three months, and then see me again." 

This counsel she follov ed, and when 
she re-appeared before Garcia, he thought 
there was some hoi>e of her, and gave her 
the instructions which she coveted ; but it 
is remarkable that Garcia should never 
have had sufficient penetration to discover 
her innate genius. Soon after this, she 
made the acquaintance of Meyerbeer, 
whose discrimination was more searching. 
A rehearsal was given, with a full orches- 
tra, at the grand opera, where the per- 
formance of Jenny Lind so gratified the 
composer, that lie at once offered her an 
engagement at iJerlin. 

At the close of 1842, she returned to 
Stockholm, where her popularity contin- 
ued to increase. Her fame, however, 
extending beyond the limits of Sweden, 
she was induced to make a professional 
visit to Germany, where public opinion 
confirmed that high estimate of her abili- 
ties which had been sanctioned at home. 

But it was in England, that her success 
first touched the marvelous and sublime ; 
and there it was, that the tribute appro- 
priated by Shakespeare to one of his beau- 
tiful creations — " She sbujs lUceone immor- 
tal " — became fact, applied to the Swedish 
nightingale. Her Majesty's theater was 
the first arena of her triumphs in England, 
Queen Victoria, by her presence on the 
opening night, offering her a flattering 
and graceful tribute. On the evening of 
May fifth, she made her first essay before 
an English audience, in the character of 
Alice. The uproar excited by her appear- 
ance on this occasion was tremendous. 
The whole crowded mass displayed an 
astounding power of lungs, and hats and 
handkerchiefs waved from all parts. Peo- 
ple came prepared to admire, but they 
admired beyond the extent of their prejj- 
aration. The delicious quality of the per- 
formance — the rich, gushing notes, were 
something entirely new and fresh. The 



388 



BRILLIANT MUSICAL TOUR OF JENNY LIISD. 



auditors did not know what to make of it. 
They had heard singers over and over 
again ; hut there — that wondrous thing ! 
— a new sensation was actually created. 
The sustained notes swelling with full 
richness, and fading down to the softest 
piano, without losing one iota of their 
quality, being delicious when loud, deli- 
cious when whispered, which dwelt in the 
public ear and reposed in the public heart, 
— these were the wonder-exciting phenom- 
ena. The impression made as an actress 
was no less profound ; and even in Vienna, 
the most exacting critics applauded her 
performance of The Daughter of the Reg- 
iment, in Donnizetti's renowned opera, 
as they also did in other cities. 





On returning to Stockholm, in 1848, 
she entered into an engagement with the 
royal opera, to give a series of concerts. 
On the evening of her first performance, 
the newspapers of the city published a 
note signed by the renowned cantatrice, in 
which she stated that, in order to give her 
native country a souvenir that might last 
beyond her existence as an artist, she had 
determined on devoting the whole profits 
of her performance to the establishment of 
a school for poor young persons of both 
sexes, born with happy dispositions, in 
which they should be gratuitously taught 



music and the dramatic art. This gener- 
osity excited to the wildest pitch, the 
public enthusiasm, and on the time arriv- 
ing for the sale of tickets for the nest day, 
the place was densely crowded. This 
state of things continued to increase, until 
about eleven o'clock, when the multitude 
was such that the police interfered, and 
made the people form en queue. This was 
accomplished quietly enough ; but a little 
after midnight a compact mass of people 
suddenly made an irruption from the 
neighboring streets, rushed on the said 
queue, broke it, and besieged the theater. 
The first crowd now returned, attacked 
their aggressors, and in a few minutes a 
desperate fist and foot combat ensued. 
The police jiroved una- 
vailing, and several de- 
tachments of infantry 
arrived; these also were 
formidably opposed, and 
only with great trouble 
did they succeed in keep- 
ing order. Tickets were 
paid for as high as one 
hundred dollars. And 
thus it was, indeed, in all 
the cities where the great 
melodist held forth in 
her discourse of song, — 
the favor shown her in- 
creasing and accumulat- , 
ing with her progress 
from place to place. 
"") And, certainly, all this 
success and fame was ns 
much a matter of surprise to herself as to 
anybody else ; for, even in 1845, remarking 
on her intended performance in Copenha- 
gen, at which city she had just arrived, she 
said, with characteristic modesty — 

" I have never made my appearance out 
of Sweden. Everybody in my own land is 
so affectionate and loving to me. If I 
made my appearance here, and should be 
hissed ! I dare not venture on it." 

But the persuasions of Boumonville, the 
ballet-master, eventually prevailed, and 
gained for the Copeuhageners the greatest 
enjoyment they ever had. At one concert 



BRILLIANT MUSICAL TOUR OF JENNY LIND. 



3S9 



she sang her Swedish songs. They were 
so peculiar and so bewitching, that, uttered 
by such a jjurely feminine being, their 
sway was absolutely enrapturing. Her 
singing was a new revelation in the realm 
of art. The fresh young voice found its 
way into every heart. In her truth and 
nature reigned ; everything was full of 
meaning and intelligence. She was the 
first artist to whom the Danish students 
gave a serenade. Torches blazed around 
the villa, when the serenade was given, 
and she appeared and expressed her thanks 
by singing one of her native songs ; after 
which, she was observed to hasten back 
into the darkest corner of the room and 
weep for emotion. 

In the history of the ojjera, her advent 
marked a new and striking epoch. She 
showed the art in all its sanctit}'. Miss 
Bremer, writing to Hans Andersen, said : 
"We are both of us agreed as to Jenny 
Lind as a singer. She stands as high as 
any artist of our time well can stand. But 
as yet you do not know her in her real 
greatness. Speak to her of her art, and 
you will wonder at the exjjansion of her 
mind. Her countenance is lighted with 
inspiration. Converse with her upon God, 
and of the holiness of religion, tears will 
spring from those innocent eyes. She is 
a great artist, but she is still greater in 
the pure humanity of her existence." 
Indeed, according to Andersen himself, 
who was familiar with the in-door life of 
the winsome Swede, nothing could lessen 
the impression made by Jenny Lind's 
greatness on the stage, save her personal 
character in her own home. Her intelli- 
gent and child-like disposition exercised 
tliere a singular power; and there she was 
happy, belonging no longer to the world. 
Yet she loved art with her whole soul. 
She felt her vocation. Her noble and 
pious disposition could not be spoiled by 
homage. On one occasion only, says 
Andersen, did she express, in his hearing, 
her joy and self-consciousness in her talent, 
and this occurred as follows : She heard of 
a society, the object of which was to 
encourage the rescue of unfortunate chil- 



dren from the hands of their parents, by 
whom they were compelled to beg or steal, 
and place them in better circumstances. 
Benevolent people subscribed annually for 
their support, yet the means for this 
excellent purpose were but small. " I 
have an evening disengaged," said Jenny 
Lind ; " I will give a performance for these 
poor children, but we must have double 
prices." Such a performance was given, 
and returned lai-ge proceeds. When she 
heard the amount, her countenance lit up, 
and tears filled her ej'es. " It is, however, 
beautiful," said she, " that I can sing so." 

Having performed in almost all the 
principal cities and towns in Europe, to 
vast crowds who were almost frantic in 
their demonstrations of delight, as well as 
in the presence of almost every crowned 
head on the continent, winning their 
admiring homage, and gaining a fame wide 
as the world and as bright and pure as the 
stars, Jenny Lind's inclination appeared to 
be to retire, at least for a while, on the 
conclusion of her engagement in England, 
to the tranquillity of home life. 

It was at this point in her wonderful 
career, that Mr. Barnum, through his spe- 
cially commissioned agent, proposed the 
most liberal and honorable terms to Jenny 
Lind, to give a series of concerts in the 
United States. The proposals made by 
Mr. Barnum were so generous, and char- 
acterized by such delicate and gentlemanly 
consideration, in every respect, that, not- 
withstanding several parties were likewise 
attempting, at the same time, to negotiate 
with her for an American tour, she unhes- 
itatingly decided to treat with Mr. Bar- 
num, who was, on his own bidding, to 
assume all the responsibility, and take the 
entire management and chances of the 
result upon himself. The manner in 
which that sagacious and accomplished 
gentleman carried on an enterprise of such 
vast magnitude, — nearly one hundred con- 
certs, in all parts of the land, from Boston 
to Louisiana, and involving viore tha7i 
seven hundred thousand dollars in total 
receipts, — was a monument alike to his 
genius and to hi£ superlative executive 



390 



BEILLIAl^T MUSICAL TOUE OF JENNY LIND. 



abilities ;— a statement, the truth of which 
will be found abundantly confirmed in the 
history of this enterprise, as written by 
Mr. Barnum himself, and from which 
some of the facts and incidents given below 
are collated. 

On Wednesday morning, August twentj'- 
first, 1850, Jenny Lind and her two pro- 
fessional companions, Messrs. Benedict 
and Belletti, sailed from Liverpool in the 
steamer Atlantic. It was expected that 
the steamer would arrive on Sunday, Sep- 
tember first, but, determined to meet the 
songstress on her arrival, whenever it 
might be, Mr. Barnum went to Staten 
Island on Saturday night, to be in readi- 
ness to greet the fair stranger. A few 
minutes before twelve o'clock on Sunday 
morning, the Atlantic hove in sight, and, 
immediately afterwards, Mr. Barnum was 
on board the ship, and had taken Jenny 
Lind by the hand. After a few moments' 
conversation, she asked him — 

" When and where have you heard me 



sing 



9" 



" I never had the pleasure of seeing j-ou 
before in my life," replied Mr. Barnum. 

" How is it possible that you dared risk 
so much money on a person whom you 
never heard sing ? " she asked in surprise. 

"I risked it," answered Mr. Barnum, 
" on your reputation, which in musical 
matters I would much rather trust than 
my own judgment." 

Thousands of persons covered the ship- 
ping and piers, and other thousands con- 
gregated on the wharf, to see her, the 
wildest enthusiasm prevailing as the noble 
steamer approached the dock. So great 
was the rush on a sloop near the steamer's 
berth, that one man, in his zeal to obtain 
a good view, accidentally tumbled over- 
board amid the shouts of those near him. 
Jenny witnessed this incident, and was 
much alarmed. He was, however, soon 
rescued. A superb bower of green trees, 
decorated with beautiful flags, was ar- 
ranged upon the wharf, together with two 
triumphal arches ; upon one of the latter, 
was inscribed, " Welcome, Jenny Lind J " 
and the other, surmounted by the Ameri- 



can eagle, bore the inscription, " Welcome 
to America ! " ' Jenny Lind was escorted 
to Mr. Barnum's private carriage at once, 
by Captain West. The rest of the musi- 
cal party entered the carriage, and, mount- 
ing the box at the driver's side, Mr. 
Barnum directed him to the Irving House. 
As a few of the citizens had probably seen 
Mr. Barnum before, his presence on the 
outside of the carriage aided those who 
filled the windows and sidewalks along the 
whole route in coming to the conclusion 
that Jenny Lind had arrived ; and a ref- 
erence to the journals of that day will 
show, that seldom before had there been 
such enthusiasm in the city of New York, 
or indeed in America. 




Within ten minutes after their arrival 
at the Irving House, not less than ten 
thousand persons had congregated around 
the entrance in Broadway. At twelve 
o'clock that night, she was serenaded by 
the New York Musical Fund Society, 
numbering on that occasion two hundred 
musicians. They were escorted to the 
Irving House by about three hundred 
firemen in their red shirts, bearing torches. 
At least twenty thousand persons were 
present. The calls for Jenny Lind were 
so vehement, that Mr. Barnum led her 
through a window to the balcony ; and 
now, the loud cheers from the throng lasted 
several minutes, before the serenade was 
permitted again to proceed. 

For weeks afterwards, the excitement 
was unabated. Her rooms were thronged 



BRILLIANT MUSICAL TOUR OF JENNY LIND. 



391 



by visitors, including the magnates of the 
land, both in church and state, and the 
carriages of the beau monde were to he 
seen in front of her hotel, at all fashiona- 
ble hours. Presents of all sorts were 
showered upon her. Milliners, mantua- 
makers, and shopkeepers, vied with each 
other in calling her attention to their 
wares, of which they sent her many valua- 
ble specimens, delighted if in return they 
could receive her autograph in acknowl- 
edgment. Songs, quadrilles, and polkas, 
were dedicated to her, and poets wrote in 
her praise. There were Jenny Lind 
gloves, Jenny Lind bonnets, Jenny Lind 
riding hats, Jenny Lind shawls, mantillas, 
robes, chairs, sofas, pianos — in fact, every- 
thing was " Jenny Lind." Her move- 
ments were constantly watched, and the 
moment her carriage appeared at the door, 
it was surrounded by multitudes, eager to 
catch a glimpse of the fair " nightingale." 

Jenny Lind's first concert was fixed to 
come off at Castle Garden, Wednesday 
evening, September eleventh, and most of 
the tickets were sold at auction on the 
previous Saturday and Monday. Genin, 
the hatter, purchased the first ticket at 
two hundred and twenty-five dollars. The 
arrangements of the concert room were 
very complete. The great parterre and 
gallery of Castle Garden were divided by 
imaginary lines into four compartments, 
each of which was designated by a lamp of 
a peculiar color. The tickets were printed 
in colors corresponding with the location 
which the holders were to occupy, and 
there were one hundred ushers, with 
rosettes, and bearing wands tipped with 
ribbons of the same hue ; and, though five 
thousand persons were present, their en- 
trance was marked by the most perfect 
order and quiet. 

The reception of Jenny Lind on this 
her first appearance, in point of enthusi- 
asm, was probably never before equaled in 
the world. As Mr. Benedict led her 
towards the foot-lights, the entire audience 
rose to their feet and welcomed her with 
throe cheers, accompanied by the waving 
of thousands of hats and handkerchiefs. 



and the casting of bouquets before her. 
This was by far the largest audience that 
Jenny had ever sung in the presence 
of. She was evidently much agitated, but 
the orchestra commenced, and before she 
had sung a dozen notes of " Casta Diva," 
she began to recover her self-possession, 
and long before the scene was concluded, 
she was calm as if sitting in her own 
drawing-room. Towards the last portion 
of the cavatina, the audience were so com- 
pletely carried away by their feelings, 
that the remainder of the air was drowned 
in a perfect tempest of acclamation. En- 
thusiasm had been wrought to its highest 
pitch, but the musical powers of Jenny 
Lind exceeded all the brilliant anticipa- 
tions which had been formed, and her tri- 
umph was complete. At the conclusion 
of the concert, Jenny Lind was loudly 
called for, and was obliged to appear three 
times before the audience could be satis- 
fied. They then called vociferously for 
" Barnum," who reluctantly responded to 
their demands ; and, on his concluding by 
saying that the whole proceeds of the con- 
cert were to rjo to charitable ohjects, it 
seemed as though the audience would go 
frantic with applause. 

From New York, Jenuy Lind went to 
Boston, Providence, Philadelphia, Balti- 
more, AVashington, — to all the chief cities 
in the Union, east, west, north, and south; 
vast audiences everj'where awaiting her, 
— municipal, musical, and other deputa- 
tions, tendering their honors, — and, during 
every performance, there was a constant 
succession of hurrahs, encores, and other 
demonstrations of intense delight. In 
Boston, the highest price paid for a ticket 
was six hundred and twenty-five dollars, 
by Ossian E. Dodge ; in Providence, six 
hundred and fifty dollars, by Col. William 
C Ross ; in Philadelphia, six hundred and 
twenty-five dollars, b^^ M. A. Root; in 
New Orleans, two hundred and forty dol- 
lars, by Mr. D'Arcy ; in St. Louis, one 
hundred and fifty dollars, by the keeper 
of a refreshment saloon; in Baltimore, 
one hundred dollars, by a daguerreotypist. 

It was in one of the beautiful environs 



392 



BRILLIANT MUSICAL TOUR OF JENNY LIND. 




of Boston, that Jenny 
took her first out-door 
walk in America. Her love for the 
charms of nature was always intense, as 
the following incident which occurred on 
another occasion, as related by a stage- 
driver, will show. A bird of brilliant 
plumage perched itself on a tree near, as 
they drove slowly along, and trilled out 
such a complication of sweet notes as per- 
fectly astonished her. The coach stopped, 
and, reaching out, Jenny gave one of her 
finest roulades. The beautiful creature 
arched his head on one side, and listened 
deferentially; then, as if determined to 
excel his famous rival, raised his graceful 
throat and sang a song of rippling melody 
that made Jenny rapturously clap her 
hands in ecstasy,and quickly, as though she 
were before a severely critical audience, she 
delivered some Tyrolean mountain strains, 
that set the echoes flying; whereupon 
little birdie took it up, and sang and 
trilled and sang, till Jenny, in happy 
delight, acknowledged that the pretty 
woodland warbler decidedly outcaroledthe 
"Swedish nightingale." 

cTenny Lind's generosity was unbounded. 



To saj' nothing of her 
numerous heavy bene- 
factions to societies and individual.«,— 
amounting to some fifty thousand dol- 
lars, during her brief stay in America, — 
here is an illustration of her sweet tender- 
ness. One night, while giving concerts in 
Boston, a girl approached the ticket-ofiBce, 
and laying down three dollars for a ticket, 
remarked, " There goes half a month's 
earnings, but I am determined to hear 
Jenny Lind sing.'' Her secretary heard 
the remark, and in a few minutes after- 
wards, coming into Jenny's room, he 
laughingly' related to her the circumstance. 
" Would you know the girl again ? " asked 
Jenny, with an earnest look. Upon re- 
ceiving an affirmative reply, she placed a 
twenty-dollar gold coin in his hand, and 
said, " Poor girl ! give her that, with my 
best complivients." 

While in the same city, a poor Swedish 
girl, a domestic in a family at Roxbury, 
called on Jenny. Jenny detained her vis- 
itor several hours, talking about "home" 
and other matters, and in the evening 
took her in her carriage to the concert, 
gave her a seat, and sent her back to Eox. 



BEILLIANT MUSICAL TOUR OF JENNY LIND. 



303 



bury in a carriage at the close of the per- 
formance. Doubtless the poor girl carried 
with her substantial evidences of her 
countrywqman's bounty. 

On the morning after her arrival at 
Washington, President Fillmore called, 
and left his card, Jenny being out. She 
returned his call the next day, and 
subsequently, by presidential request, 
passed an evening at the White House, 
in the private circle of tlie president's 
family. 

Both concerts in Washington were 
attended by the president and his family, 
and every member of the cabinet. It hajj- 
pened that, on the day of one of these 
concerts, several members of the cabinet 
and senate were dining with Mr. Bodisco, 
the Russian minister, whose good dinner 
and choice wines had kept the jiarty so 
late that the concert had progressed quite 
far when Webster, Crittenden, and others, 
came in. Whether from the hurry in 
which they came, or from the heat of the 
room, their faces were a little flushed, and 
they all looked somewhat flurried. After 
the applause with which these dignitaries 
were received had subsided, and silence 
was once more restored, the second part of 
the concert was opened bj' Jennj' Lind, 
with "Hail Columbia." At the close of 
the first verse, Webster's patriotism boiled 
over. He could stand it no longer, and 
rising like Olympian Jove, he added his 
deep, sonorous, bass voice to the chorus. 
Mrs. Webster, who sat immediately be- 
hind him, kept tugging at his coat-tail to 
make him sit down or stop singing; but it 
was of no earthly use. At the close of 
each verse, Webster joined in ; and it was 
hard to sa}' whether Jenny Lind, Webster, 
or the audience was the most delighted. 
At the close of the air, Mr. Webster arose, 
hat in hand, and made her such a bow as 
Chesterfield would have deemed a fortune 
for his son, and which eclipsed D'Orsay's 
best. Jenny Lind, sweetly blushing at 
the distinguished honor, courtesied to the 
floor; the audience applauded to the very 
echo. Webster, determined not to be out- 
done in politeness, bowed again ; Jenny 



Lind re-curtesied, the house re-applauded ; 
and this was repeated several times. 

And so, in the case of Mr. Clay. 
Scarcely had the overture been half played 
through, than a murmur was heard from 
the end of the building. It was hushed 
instantly, and the overture was plaj'ed to 
its close. And now burst out a long and 
loud shout of applause. For a moment, 
Benedict, the conductor, looked around, 
somewhat astonished. He, however, saw 
immediately that this applause had not 
been called forth b^' the orchestra. The 
tall, slim, thin figure of an aged man — 
with a grajish blue ej'e, vivid and spark- 
ling, and a capacious, broad mouth — was 
slowly advancing up the room. Jt was 
Henry Clay. As he moved on, the shouts 
and applause redoubled. He, bowing on 
every side, continued his path feeblj', and 
somewhat cautiouslj'. At length he 
reached his seat, and the applause ceased 
for a moment. Then a voice at the upper 
end of the hall cried out, "Three cheers 
for Harry Clay ! '' The building almost 
rocked with the vehemence of the re- 
sponse. 

While in Washington, Jenny Lind was 
called on by hosts of the eminent men of 
the land, including Mr. Webster, Mr. 
Claj', General Cass, and Colonel Benton. 
And, indeed, wherever she went, from one 
end of the country to the other, the same 
scene presented itself, of distinguished 
honors to this Divinity of Song, — admiring 
and enthusiastic communities turning out 
to welcome, — and crowded audiences rap- 
turous under the overpowering enchant- 
ment of her voice. Jenny Lind's net 
avails of the ninety-five concerts given by 
her under Mr. Barnum's auspices, in the 
short space of eight months, were little 
short of $177,000, or nearly double the 
amount, per concert, named in their origi- 
nal contract. Subsequently, she gave a 
few concerts on her own account. In 
February, 1852, she was married, in 
Boston, to Mr. Otto Goldschmidt, a young 
German composer and pianist, who had 
studied music with her in that country, 
and who played several times in her Amer- 



394 



BRILLIANT MUSICAL TOUR OF JENNY LIND. 



ican concerts. Shortly after her marriage, 
they left for Europe. Her professional 
tour in America was far more brilliant and 
successful than that of any other performer, 
male or female, musical, theatrical, or 
operatic, who ever appeared before an 
American audience. The names of Kem- 
ble, Malibran, Celeste, Ellsler, Tree, Kean, 
Garcia, Ole Bull, Paganini, Rossini, Julien, 
Ristori, Rachel, Parepa, Alboni, Dean, 
Phillips, Kellogg, Sontag, Wood, Gotts- 
ehalk, etc., etc., all pale before that of the 
fair Swede. 

Describing Jenny Lind's voice scientific- 
ally, it should be spoken of as a soprano, 
embracing a register of two and a half 
octaves. Clear and powerful, susceptible 
of the greatest variety of intonation, it 
met all the demands of the composer with 
the greatest facility to its possessor. No 
difficulties appalled her j a perfect musi- 



cian, she suffered herself to revel in all the 
roulades of which the time and occasion 
admitted. Her upper notes filled the 
vastest area with an effect to which noth- 
ing but the striking of a fine-toned bell 
could be compared, while her most gentle 
and subdued passages were audible at the 
greatest distances. In a word, there was 
a rare combination of qualities which 
raised her above all other singers ever 
heard. Her voice — sweet, powerful, mel- 
low, resonant, faultless in tone, and full of 
sympathetic emotion ; her execution — 
ready and facile ; her manner — earnest not 
only in the expression of every word, but in 
her looks, her air, her abstraction from ev- 
ery surrounding object ; — to have seen and 
heard this, even once, was, in the language 
of one who had been thus favored, " a treat 
to last until we go to heaven, where, and 
where alone, such music oan be heard." 



XLIX. 

REIGN OF THE VIGILANCE COMMITTEE IN CALI- 
FORNIA— 1851. 



Revolution in the Administration of Justice. — Powerlessness and Indifference of the Regular Authori- 
ties. — Robbery, Arson, and Murder, Alarmingly Prevalent.— The Committee's Secret Chamber of 
Judgment.— Sudden Seizure and Trial of Noted Criminals.— Solemn Tolling of the Signal Bell.— 
Swift and Terrible Executions. — Renovation of Society. — Swarming of Desperate Felons. — England's 
Penal Colonies Emptied. — Organized Society of " Hounds." — A Band of Cut-throats. — Society at 
Their Mercy. — Harvests Reaped by Them. — Corrupt Courts and Officers. — The Vigilance Commit- 
tee Formed. — Prompt, Resolute, Powerful. — The Criminals Taken Unawares. — Instant Summons to 
Death. — A Gallows at Midnight. — Extraordinary Horrors. — Confessions by the Victims. — Astound- 
ing Revelations. — Magistrates Implicated. — Warnings by the Committee. — A Double Execution. — 
Thousands of Spectators. — Wild Shouts of Approval. — The Lawless Classes Terrified. — The Results 
of the Movement. 



■ other diBturher of Ihe neoce, fhnl! pFcnpe punUh- 
ment. either liy th<- qu bnl'eH'of the law. the^iiiBecurity uf jtiVisoiie. the curfl«BbneBS or curruptiou of the police, or a Inxity of those wlio pretend 



e detprmlnod that 10 thief, bur^tlar. im 
ly lh<- qu b^le» of tlie law, tlie iiiBecl 
Bier jil-tice.' — .\UDRESS OF THE Vllil 



ndinry. ttB^asBln. hallnt-hnx atuffer. 
;y of iiriBooe. the ci 
t^'(.t CullMITIbli. 





IGILANCE committees, and " 13'nch law," are terms of similar and famil- 
^.- iar meaning, in the American vocabulary. But nowhere else 

;^<^&^ev within the borders of the great republic has the operation of this 
summary' method of dealing with offenders who would otherwise 
gn "unwbipped of justice," been so resolute, so frequent, and so 
(ffectne, as in California. Nor, perhaps, has it ever been more 
f xcusable, as an extreme public necessity. Such was the 
unsettled condition of society in that remote territory, 
fluring the earlier years of its mining historj', so multi- 
plied and daring the crimes against life and property, 
xrtd so inefficient as well as glaringly corrupt, the courts 
ind judges, that, for a time, robbery, murder, arson, and 
\ iolence were completely in the ascendant, so that every 
man not actually in league with the perpetrators 
of these outrages, was put on the defensive, — car- 
rying his weapons by day, and sleeping on them 
at night. Bold and defiant in their successful 
career of crime, numbers of these outlaws 
formed themselves into a mutual organiza- 
tion, with regular head-quarters, and assumed 
the name of "hounds." Tliey swarmed the 
city and the country, and, in their skilled arts 
of villainy, as thieves, pickpockets, gamblers, 
incendiaries, and assassins, numbered their 
DotBLE EXEcuTiu.N i.v SAN FKANcisco. victims by huudreds. lu addition to this, 




396 



REIGN OF THE VIGILANCE COMMITTEE. 



large numbers of felons found their way 
to California, from the convict islands of 
Van Dieman's Land and New South 
Wales, and there, under the existing lax- 
ity of law and audacity of crime, reaped a 
rich harvest. 

Such, then, was the condition of affairs 
throughout the state, when, goaded and 
outraged beyond endurance, the well-dis- 
posed citizens determined to become a law 
unto themselves, and to administer that 
law in the interests of justice and self-pro- 
tection, with promptness and decision. Ex- 
amples were not long wanting for the exe- 
cution of their purpose ; and, in pursuance 
of the same end, the citizens of San Fran- 
cisco soon found their wrongs being re- 
dressed by a powerful voluntary organiza- 
tion of the most influential men in the city, 
styled the Vigilance Committee, who, in 
the constitution of their association, de- 
clared that they thus united themselves 
together, " to preserve the lives and proi> 
erty of the citizens of San Francisco, — 
binding themselves, each unto the other, 
to do and perform every lawful act for the 
maintenance of law and order, and to sus- 
tain the laws when faithfully and properly 
administered, — but determined that no 
thief, burglar, incendiarij, or assassin, es- 
cape punishment, either- by the quibbles of 
the latv, the insecurity of prisons, the care- 
lessness or corruption of the j^olice, or a 
laxity on the part of those pretending to 
administer justice." 

The first, and one of the most excitinor 
of the cases growing out of this extraor- 
dinary organization, occurred in San Fran- 
cisco, in June, 1851, when a Sidney con- 
vict was caught in the act of carrying 
away a small safe which he had stolen. 
The man, a desperate character, was seized 
by some memljers of the vigilance commit- 
tee, who conducted him forthwith to their 
head-quarters, where he was tried in the 
presence of about eighty members of the 
association sitting with closed doors, by 
them convicted, and sentenced to be hung 
in Portsmouth Square, that night. Dur- 
ing the progress of the trial, the citizens 
had assembled in large numbers about the 



building and in Portsmouth Square, the 
bell on the engine-house at the latter local- 
ity having rung the prcrarranged signal, 
to give notice of the proceedings going on. 
Thougli very much excited, the populace 
were not disorderly. Some disapprobation 
was manifested at the secrecy of the com- 
mittee's doings ; but when the result was 
known, there was a very general acquies- 
cence, although there were many who 
deemed the punishment too severe for the 
offense, and others thought he should be 
executed in broad daylight. As soon as 
the sentence was passed, the bell on the 
California Engine House, near by, com- 
menced to toll the funeral knell of the 
wretched man. This was at one o'clock, 
viidnight. Captain Ray, of the police 
force, applied at the door of the commit- 
tee's room, and demanded the prisoner, 
but was refused several times, and al- 
though others of the police force were on 
the ground, they saw it was of no use to 
attempt a rescue. 

Some person climbed the liberty pole to 
rig a block for the execution, but a loud 
shout of "Don't hang him on the liberty 
pole," arose from all quarters. Voices 
screamed out, " To the old adobe," and a 
rush was made for that edifice, upon the 
corner of the square, formerly occupied as 
the custom-house. At the end of the build- 
ing, a block was rigged, and a long rope 
run through it. In the meantime, a num- 
ber of the police who were on the ground, 
made several attempts to obtain possession 
of the prisoner, whose arms were tightly 
pinioned and who was closely surrounded 
by an armed and resolute body of the com- 
mittee, but they were sternly prevented ; 
had they persisted, they would have been 
riddled with balls. Several citizens de- 
nounced the execution, and sought to aid 
the police. 

The prisoner by this time was nearly 
dead with fear and rough handling, when 
a rush was made toward him, a noose 
thrown over his head, the rope manned by 
twenty ready hands, who ran backwards, 
dragging the wretched man along the 
ground, until, raising him swiftly to the 



EEIGN OF THE VIGILANCE COMMITTEE. 



397 



beam, the heavy form of the convicted 
felon dangled from the block. A few fear- 
ful struggles, a quiver of the hempen cord, 
a few nervous twitches, and the crowd 
gazed upon the lifeless corpse of him upon 
whom such speedy and terrible vengeance 
had been executed by an outraged people. 
At six o'clock, the city marshal cut down 
the body and consigned it to the dead- 
house. 

Thus ended the first execution which 
ever took place in San Francisco, where 
more crime had been committed during 
the j'ear past than in any other city of the 
same population in the Union, without 
one single instance of adequate punish- 
ment. Of the guilt of Jenkins there was 
no doubt. He had long been known to 
the police as a desperate character from 
the English penal colonies, where he had 
passed many years as a transported con- 




SEAIi OF THE CALIFORNIA. VIGILAXCE COMMITTEE. 

vict. A profound impression was produced 
throughout California, as also in every 
other section of the country, by these ex- 
traordinary but imperative proceedings. 

Only a month elapsed from this time, 
when another and similar scene of horror 
was enacted. This was the case of James 
Stuart, one of a regular gang of thieves 
and murderers, and who, from his own 
confession, had committed almost every 
known crime and outrage. He was delib- 
erately tried on various charges by the 
vigila.nce committee, found guilty, and 
sentenced to be hung, all of which he ac- 
knowledged to be just. At nine o'clock in 
the morning, Julj' eleventh, the bell of the 



Monumental Engine Company's house on 
the plaza, attracted everybody's attention 
— known, as it was, to be a signal of the 
vigilance committee, — and people soon be- 
gan to throng down in the direction of the 
committee's quarters. The bell tolled for 
about half an hour, guns were fired from 
a brig in the harbor, and many of the ves- 
sels in the harbor had their flags displayed. 
About half-past one o'clock, some one came 
out of the "chamber of judgment," and 
read a portion of Stuart's confession, and it 
was stated that he would be hung in an 
hour, — a proposition which the crowd sanc- 
tioned almost unanimously. The news 
spread, and the crowd increased im- 
mensely. The committee now came down 
stairs, and formed three abreast ; there 
were hundreds of them, principally com- 
posed of the oldest, best known, and most 
prominent citizens. Previous to this, a 
clergyman had been sent for, who remained 
with Stuart two hours. 

A gallows of plain uprights and a cross- 
beam had been erected, a block with a rope 
in it, and the noose ready made. On the 
way down, Stuart appeared perfectly cool 
and collected. On reaching the gallows, 
the rope was placed around his neck, and, 
with the exception of a slight paleness, 
there was no change in his appearance, no 
trembling, no agitation. He appeared to 
feel as though he was satisfied with his 
sentence and did not desire to live longer. 

The immense crowd remained breathless, 
and Stuart, when under the gallows, said, 
" / die reconciled ; my sentence is just." 
The rope was pulled, and in a moment he 
was swinging in the air. As he went up, 
he closed his eyes and clasped his hands 
together. He had previously requested 
that his face might not be covered. He 
scarcely gave a struggle ; and although the 
knot was on the back of his neck, appeared 
to suffer but little pain. A slight contrac- 
tion of the lower limbs, and a strained 
heaving of the chest for a moment, were 
all the symptoms of approaching death. 
After hanging about five minutes, his hat 
blew off, and exposed to view the ghastly 
features of the murderer and robber. 



398 



REIGN OF THE VIGILANCE COMMITTEE. 



"VVlien he had hung about twenty minutes, 
he was cut down by the coroner. There 
was no attempt at a rescue, and everything 
was conducted with perfect order, but the 
greatest determination. Stuart's confes- 
sion was one unvarying record of daring 
crimes, showing, in a startling manner, 
the dangers of California life and prop- 
erty. A large number of persons, some of 
them holding office, and of reputable stand- 
ij^, were implicated in Stuart's confession, 
— it appearing that the association of 
thieves, burglars, and assassins, to which 
Stuart belonged, extended throughout the 
entire state — that judges and public prose- 
cutors were in some places in league with 
the association — that subornation of per- 
jury was one of the commonest expedients 
to achieve the impunity of the criminal, 
and to baffle the working of the law — 
that the burninj;; of San Francisco was 
several times resolved upon in revenge — 
and that life wa= not regarded at a straw's 
value when money was to be obtained by 
murder. 

Determined to be thorough in their work 
of purification, the committee served no- 
tices upon every vicious or suspected per- 
son, whose name could be obtained, with a 
warning to depart forthwith. This, with 
the swift and terrible executions already 
witnessed, caused multitudes to flee for 
their lives. Crime rapidly diminished, 
and now, for the first time, almost, for 
years, citizens felt secure in their persons 
and possessions. 

But the vigilance of the committee did 
not for a moment relax, and, in a few 
weeks after the disposal of Stuart, they 
had in their hands two notorious robbers 
and incendiaries, named Whittaker and 
McKenzie. They were tried, found guilty, 
and condemned to the gallows. They 
themselves confessed their guilt, and a day 
■was fixed for their execution. In the 
meantime. Governor McDougall issued a 
writ of habeas corpus, which was handed 
to Sheriff Hayes, commanding him to take 
the bodies of Whittakei- and McKenzie, 
and bring them into court, to be dealt with 
according to law. 



Colonel Hayes and some of his deputies 
immediately repaired to the rooms of the 
committee, having declined a posse of police 
offered to accompany them. The police, 
however, followed, with some stragglers 
who wished to see the result. The sheriff 
and Mr. Caperton walked up stairs and 
entered the room, unresisted. Mr. Caper- 
ton advanced to the room in which the 
prisoners were confined, announced him- 
self to be the deputy sheriff, and called on 
the two men, Whittaker and McKenzie, 
to accompany him, Colonel Hayes mean- 
time guarding the door. When the party- 
was about to leave, one of the committee 
laid his hand upon the sheriff's shoulder 
and attempted to push him from the door, 
but Colonel Hayes told him he was there 
to do his duty and was obliged to do it ; 
to prevent bloodshed, they were allowed to 
proceed. Two of the members of the com- 
mittee, suspecting treachery, had at the 
same time let themselves down from the 
windows, and at once gave the alarm by 
ringing the bell. 

This was a little before the break of day, 
and immediately the members came pour- 
ing in from all directions. Amid intense 
excitement, the meeting organized, and 
the circumstances were detailed. The 
person who had charge of the room was 
bitterly denounced. Various propositions 
were made, but no action taken. The se- 
quel was yet to come. 

It w-as about half-past two o'clock on 
Sunday afternoon, August 24th, that the 
belief the Monumental Engine Company 
CQ^imenced tolling in a very rapid manner, 
and the news soon spread like vifildfire, that 
the prisoners, Whittaker and McKenzie, 
had been taken out of the county jail by 
some members of the vigilance committee ! 

The manner of the rescue was as follows : 
About quarter-past two o'clock, the prison- 
ers were taken out of their cells to attend 
the usual Sunday services conducted by 
Rev. Mr. Williams. Soon after they were 
called out, the attention of Captain Lam- 
bert, keeper of the jail, was called to the 
gate, by the sentry who was on the roof, 
and instantly the doors were burst open, a 



SEIGN OF THE VIGILANCE COMMITTEE. 



399 



rush made, and Captain Lambert thrown 
ipon the ground and lield. The prisoners 
were at the same moment seized and car- 
ried out. A carriage was outside, in which 
the criminals were placed, and a pair of 
fine, dashing gray horses sprang at the 
word in the direction of Dupont street. 
At this juncture, the bell of the Monu- 
mental was rung in quick, sharp strokes. 
The excitement and uproar were terrific, 
the multitude surging now this way, now 
that, as the carriage dashed fiercely along. 
Pistols were held at the heads of the cap- 
tives while they rode along, and almost 
before the crowd realized what had hap- 
pened, the prisoners were safe in the com- 
mittee's chamber of judgment. The pris- 
oners were taken by about forty armed 
persons, just as the sermon in the prison 
had been concluded, and recicted to the 
utmost the strong arm of the capturers, 
weapons being presented with deadly aim 
on both sides. 

From every ward in the city, and from 
the most remote suburban parts within the 
sound of the Vigilance bell, people came 
flocking, breathless and excited, to the 
scene of execution. The streets presented 
a scene of furious, mad disorder. Living 
masses surged down the by-ways, through 
the thoroughfares, and over the planked 
roads, until the tramp and roar of the mul- 
titude sounded like the beating of the 
ocean waves upon a stormy shore. Mont- 
gomery street poured its tide of human 
masses into California street, and the lat- 
ter emptied its living contents, like a 
mighty river, upon the spot where the 
prisoners had been taken by their captors, 
namely, the vigilance committee's cham- 
bers — two large frame-houses, ranged side 
by side, of two-story construction, their 
gable ends fronting Battery street, in the 
block between California and Pine streets. 
The lower floors of these buildings were oc- 
cupied as stores — the upper apartments as 
the Vigilance chambers, each having heavy 
double doors, opening upon Battery street, 
above which projected timbers and pulleys, 
such as are used in store-lofts for the pur- 
pose of hoisting goods from the ground. 



And now an outcry and huzza rent the 
air, and was borne up from the rooms of 
the committee far into the city, until ten 
thousand throats seemed to join in a gen- 
eral cheer and shout of congratulation. 
The committee were prepariny to execute 
justice upon the criminals! A carriage 
dashed round the corner and up California 
street. It was greeted with cheer after 
cheer. The driver stood up in his box, 
waved his hat, and huzzaed in reply. 
This was the carriage in which the prison- 
ers had been carried off from the county 
jail, and which was now returning from 
the committee rooms. It was drawn by 
gray-white horses, whose sides were reek- 
ing with foam and perspiration. 

In the southern chamber, a rope had 
been 'reeved' through the block attached 
to the beam above the left door. When 
the door of the northern chamber opened, 
a few members appeared without their 
coats, and addressed a few words to the 
masses below, announcing the capture of 
the prisoners. Cries of " hang them up ! " 
"now and here!" ensued, and the tumult 
each moment grew greater. " We have 
them — never year — it is all right" re- 
sponded the committee ; and a thundering 
shout of wild congratulation went up from 
the surging mass. A few of the commit- 
tee then smashed out the glass above the 
door of the southern chamber, and one of 
their number mounted into the opening, 
holding one end of a rope. Dexterously 
clinging to the clapboards on the outside, 
he managed to pass the rope thrdugh the 
block, and returned with the two ends to 
the floor. Both doors of the committee 
rooms were then closed — the fatal ropes 
inside. 

Seventeen minutes had now been spent 
in rescuing the prisoners from the jail, 
conveying them to the rooms, and com- 
pleting the preliminaries of their execu- 
tion. The great, dense, agitated crowd 
that covered the roofs, and clung by doz- 
ens to the sides of all the adjoining houses, 
and packed the streets, darkened the walls, 
■and filled the rigging and boats along the 
docks, presented an awful and imposing 



4U0 



EEIGN OF THE VIGILANCE COMMITTEE. 




EXECDTIOSS BY THE VIGILANCE COMMITTEE IN SAN FRANCISCO. 



spectacle of excited, impatient and resolute 
manhood. Ten thousand faces were up- 
turned, when the doors of both chambers 
were simultaneously jerked open, present- 
ing to view each of the prisoners, half sur- 
rounded at each door by committee men. 
A terrific shout rent the air. 

The multitude tossed to and fro — above 
all, amid all, calmly but sternly stood the 
band of vigilants, and in their hands the 
fainting, drooping, gasping criminals, their 
arms pinioned and their feet secured. 
The rope was about their necks, their 
coats having been removed, and they stood 
aghast and trembling in the brief second 
of lifetime allowed them to confront the 
stormy sea of human beings below. An- 
other second of time, and they were tossed 
far out into space, and drawn like light- 
ning to the beam's end. Both were exe- 
cuted at one and the same instant, the 
signal being given throughout the cham- 
bers, and the members rushing back with 
the rope until the culprits each had been 
dragged to the block, and hung almost 
motionless by the neck. Then a few con- 
vulsive throbs, and all was over. McKen- 
zie was attired in gray pants and coarse 
shirt, and was hung from the beam in front 



of the northern room ; while J 
being dragged to the fatal spot from the 
further end of the room, he manifested the 
most overwhelming fright and terror, 
and the countenance he exhibited, when 
brought up to the door, was one never to 
be forgotten by those who looked upon it — 
his face was pallid, his eyes upturned, his 
hair appeared to stand out from the scalp, 
and every fiber of his flesh quivered and 
seemed to clutch existence. AVliittaker 
was more indifferent and unmoved; but he 
was cleanly dressed, and was much the bet- 
ter looking man of the two. 

Such terrible and repeated examples of 
swift justice at the hands of the commit- 
tee, proved effective, to a great degree, in 
cleansing San Francisco from the horde of 
criminals with which it had so sorely been 
infested, and, for a long time after, the 
citizens ceased to live in terror of burglars, 
robbers, assassins, and incendiaries. In 
Sacramento, too, where similar scenes of 
retribution had been enacted, resulting in 
the summary execution of those noted fel- 
ons. Roe, Robinson, Gibson, and Thomp- 
son, the work of reformation seemed well- 
nigh effectual. Indeed, the occupation of 
a vigilance committee appeared to be over 



EEIGN OF THE VIGILANCE COMMITTEE. 



401 



— and it existed, therefore, for j'ears, as 
scarcely more than a nominal organization. 

In 1856, however, crime had again be- 
come so rampant and stalked abroad with 
such impunity, that the vigilance com- 
mittee once more took justice into its own 
hands, with an iron and uncompromising 
sway, though this time not without a fearful 
struggle with the constituted authorities. 

The great exciting provocation to the 
resumption of the committee's work, at 
this period, was the deliberate and cold- 
blooded murder of James King of William 
(an appellation which he carried with him 
from Virginia), editor of the Evening Bul- 
letin, by James P. Casey, editor of the 
Sunday Times, both of San Francisco. 
Mr. King was one of the earliest emigrants 
to California, and was a man universally 
respected and admired for his probity and 
independence. He began the publication 
of the Bulletin with the avowed purpose 
of denouncing the political and moral cor- 
ruption which had gained for San Fran- 
cisco such an unenviable reputation. The 
manliness and courage with which he pur- 
sued this work of reform gained for him 
the friendship of right-minded peoj)le of 
every class, and, as a matter of course, the 
enmity of the dishonest and criminal. 
Casey, the murderer, was, both in private 
character and habits and in his connection 
with municipal politics, a man of the class 
to whom Mr. King was most likely to be 
obnoxious. 

On the fourteenth of May, Mr. King, 
in a rejoinder to an attack made upon him 
in the Times, stated that the editor of that 
journal, Casey, had been an inmate of 
Sing Sing prison, and had secured his 
election to an office in San Francisco by 
fraud. Casey called on King for satisfac- 
tion, failing to obtain which, he at once 
watched for him on the street, and, at five 
o'clock on the evening of the same day, 
the two met in public. With hardly a 
word of warning — giving his victim no 
time for defense, — Casey drew a revolver, 
and shot Mr. King through the left breast. 
The latter lingered for a few days and 
died on the 20th. 

26 



The murder was followed by the arrest 
of Casej', and he was conveyed to jail 
amidst intense jiopular excitement, his 
immediate execution being demanded by 
the infuriated multitude. A party of men, 
numbering several hundred, got together, 
armed themselves, jjut several small can- 
non on drays, and were on the point of 
starting to attack the jail, but finally de- 
sisted. It soon became evident that noth- 
ing could be done without an organization, 
now deemed imperative. A horde of mur- 
derers and other notoriously bad men had 
collected in the citj', and had long gone 
unpunished and unterrified. The next 
morning, therefore, the members of the 
old vigilance committee met, and began to 
admit new members. For three days they 
sat in almost constant session secretly. 
About twenty-five hundred members, olil 
and new, were admitted, these binding 
themselves to obej^ a committee of fifty, 
who alone knew what was to be done. 

On the following Sundaj- morning, the 
committee were ordered to assemble, and 
Ije armed with a musket and revolver each. 
They were divided off into companies, and 
officers appointed. A six-pounder cannon 
was provided, and at ten o'clock they 
marched to the jail, which they sur- 
rounded. The cannon was loaded, and 
every musket was loaded with ball and had 
a fixed bayonet. At one o'clock, Casey, 
at his own request, — desirous, as he said, 
to prevent bloodshed, — was surrendered to 
the committee, who conducted him in a 
carriage to their chambers. Subsequently 
they took Charles Cora, the murderer of 
General Richardson, United States mar- 
shal, unconvicted on account of the jury 
disagreeing, and lodged him in one of their 
rooms. All this took place amidst the 
most perfect silence and order ; the forces 
of the committee marched to the jail with- 
out bugle or drum, and hardly a word was 
spoken, even by the thousands of specta- 
tors who witnessed the scene. 

The funeral of Mr. King was marked by 
every manifestation of popular respect for 
the deceased. Stores were closed, houses 
were hung with black, men wore crape on 



402 



EEIGN OF THE VIGILANCE COMMITTEE. 



their arms, hells were tolled, and flags 
were displayed at half-mast. Meanwhile, 
Casey and Cora's crimes had been adjudged 
worthy of death, and, notwithstanding the 
great gathering at the funeral, the rooms 
of the committee were surrounded by about 
twenty thousand people, who had got an 
intimation that the committee, fearing a 
rescue, had determined to hang the crimi- 
nals forthwith. 

A most formidable guard was arranged 
by the committee, numbering about three 
thousand stand of muskets and two field- 
pieces. The streets in the immediate vi- 
cinitj' of the rooms were cleared by the 
soldiers, and the bristling bayonets that 
were displayed in every direction made the 
scene one of great solemnity. 

At about one o'clock, the workmen were 
seen preparing the gallows in front of the 
committee rooms, — now located in a two- 
story granite building, — a platform being 
extended from each of two front windows 
of the second floor, extending about three 
feet beyond the line of the building, and 
provided with a hinge at the outer line of 
the window sill, the extreme end being 
held up by means of a cord attached to a 
beam, which projected from the roof of the 
building, and to which the fatal rope was 
also attached. 

Soon the prisoners were brought to the 
windows, in view of the multitude, dressed 
in their usual garments, and mounted the 
platform, having their arms pinioned. 
They both appeared to be firm, and but 
little affectad by the dreadful fate that 
awaited them. Before placing the rope 
upon their necks, an opportunity was given 



them to speak to the people assembled. 
Casey made a few remarks, but Cora did 
not speak. At twenty minutes past one 
o'clock, everything being ready, the signal 
was given, the cord that held up the outer 
end of the scaffolds or platforms was cut 
upon the roof of the building, and the doom- 
ed men were both launched into eternity. 

The work of death being ended, the 
body of armed men who had acted as 
guards, were all drawn up in line, and 
reviewed by the superior officers ; after 
which, they countermarched down to the 
rooms, and, entering one door, stacked 
their arms, filed out at another door, and 
mingled with the citizens. 

Extending its operations throughout the 
state, the committee determined to effect 
a complete renovation of society, — to break 
up and drive from the state the bands of 
felons with which it was infested, — and to 
awe into submission the political bullies 
who so largely controlled the elections. 
After executing some four criminals, and 
transporting or banishing many more, 
thus securing comparative quiet and order, 
the committee relinquished its administra- 
tion of justice ; the same was the case in 
Sacramento, Stockton, San Jose, and other 
places, where crime, unawed and unpun- 
ished by courts, had been thus summarily 
and sternly dealt with by an outraged 
community. The committee on no occa- . 
sion denied the illegality of their acts; 
they defended their course solely on the 
ground that there was no security for life 
or property either under the regulations of 
societj', as then existing, or under the laws 
as then administered. 



VICTORIOUS RACE OF THE YACHT "AMERICA," IN THE 
GREAT INTERNATIONAL REGATTA.— 1851. 



She Distances, by Nearly Eight Miles, the Whole Fleet of Swift and Splendid Competitors, and Wins 
" the Cup of all Nations." — Grandest and Most Exciting Spectacle of the Kind Ever Known. — Queen 
Victoria Witnesses the Match — Universal Astonishment at the Result. — Adniiration Elicited by the 
" America's" Beautiful Model and Ingenious Rig. — Scenes at the " World's Exhibition " at London — 
Grand Finale Yet to Come Off — Championship of the Sea. — England Sensitive on this Point — Her 
Motto, " Rule Britannia !" — George Steers Builds the America. — Commodore Stevens Takes Her to 
England. — His Challenge to All Countries — An International Prize Race. — Eighteen Yachts Entered. 
— The Scene on Wave and Shore. — All Sails Set : The Signal. — Every Eye on " the Yankee." — Her 
Leisurely Movements. — Allows Herself to be Distanced — Her Quality Soon Shown. — No " Belly inp" 
of Canvas. — Amazing Increase of Speed. — All Rivals Passed, One by One. — They Return in 
Despair. — Great Odds for the America. — Is Visited by Queen Victoria. 



On erery Bide waa he&ri the hail, " Is the America firet? 
DOIT Times. 



-The answer, " Tk8 I "— *' What'B second ?"— The reply, *' NoTBltro I "— LoN- 



^\ EATIFYINGr, in the highest degree, to the pride of every American, was the 
announcement that, in the great and exciting international yacht 
race, — which formed, in an important sense, the grand 
finale of the " Exhibition of the Industrj' of AH 
Nations," held in London, in 1851, — the victory had 
been won by the clipper yacht America, of one 
hundred and seventy tons, built by Mr. George 
Steers, of Brooklyn, N. Y., and commanded by 
Commodore John C. Stevens, also of New York. 
The prize was no less than "The Cup of all Na- 
tions." 

Making but an indifferent show of contributions 
to the various departments of art, science, and 
manufactures, at that renowned exposition, the 
conclusion had become universal, that the United 
States would gain but little eclat in that magnifi- 
cent congress of the industries of civilization. One 
trial of championship, however, was yet to be made 
and determined, — the supremacy, in respect to 
architectural model, equipment, nautical skill, and power of speed, upon that element, 
the dominion of which has ever been the coveted achievement of every maritime coun- 




404 



VICTORIOUS EACE OF THE YACHT AMERICA. 



try, and of England in particular, — the 
high claims jiut forth by the latter being 
well understood. 

How hajjpily it was reserved for the 
United States to take thia honor to her- 
self, in a manner, too, undreamed of by 
any compeer or rival, will appear from the 
following history of the great fact, as given 
at the time by the press of both England 
and America. Indeed, in respect to the 
English journals and the English public, 
it can truly be said, that fair ^)/«y and 
inanly acknowledgment of a fair heat 
were never more honorably exhibited. And 
this last-named fact is all the more credit- 
able, when all the circumstances of the 
case are considered. A large portion of 
the British i)eerage and gentry left their 
residences and forsook their usual diver- 
sions, to witness the struggle between the 
yachtsmen of England, hitherto unmatched 
and unchallenged, and the Americans who 
had crossed the Atlantic to meet them. 
All the feelings of that vast population 
swarming in British ports and firmly 
believing in " Rule Britannia," as an arti- 
cle of national faith ; all the prejudices of 
the nobility and wealthy aristocracj^, who 
regarded the beautiful vessels in which 
they cruised about the channel and visited 
the shores of the Mediterranean every 
summer as the perfection of naval archi- 
tecture, were roused to the highest degree ; 
and even the Queen of England did not 
deem the occasion unworthy of her pres- 
ence. 

Until the very day, August twenty- 
second, 1851, of this celebrated contest, no 
Englishman ever dreamed that any nation 
could produce a yacht witTi the least pre- 
tensions to match the efforts of AVhite, 
Camper, Ratsey, and other eminent build- 
ers ; and in the pages of the Yacht List 
for that very year (1851), there was an 
assertion which every man within sight of 
sea water from the Clyde to the Solent 
would swear to, namely, that " yacht build- 
ing was an art in which England was 
unrivaled, and that she was distinguished 
pre-eminentl}' and alone for the perfection 
of science in handling them." Of the sev- 



enteen yacht clubs in various parts of the 
united kingdom, not one of them had ever 
seen a foreigner enter the lists in the 
annual matches. It was just known that 
there was an imperial yacht club in St. 
Petersburg, maintained, it was affirmed, 
by the imperial treasury, to encourage a 
nautical spirit among the nobility, and 
that a few owners of j'achts at Rotterdam 
had enrolled themselves as a club ; but, 
till the America came over, the few who 
were aware of the fact that there was a 
flourishing club in New York did not 
regard it as of the slightest consequence, 
or as at all likely to interfere with their 
monopoly of the glory of the manliest of all 
sports. The few trial runs made by the 
America, on her arrival in English waters, 
proved her to be of great speed, and satis- 
fied the English critics that her owners 
were not so little justified as at first they 
had been thought, in offering to back an 
untried vessel against any other yacht 
for the large sum of fifty thousand dollars, 
or for a cup or piece of plate. An inter- 
esting reminiscence or two, in this connec- 
tion, related by Colonel Hamilton, a mem- 
ber of the club, may here be given, 
namely : 

There had previously been some t.alk 
among the members of the New York 
yacht club, of a race with the yachts of 
England, and Mr. W. H. Brown, the well- 
known and skillful ship-builder, had under- 
taken to build a schooner that should out- 
sail any other vessel at home or abroad, 
and he agreed to make the purchase of her 
contingent upon her success. His offer 
was accepted by the j^acht club. And 
now, to the master hand and brain of that 
accomplished architect, George Steers, 
was confided the task of furnishing the 
model of this — to be — nautical wonder. 
Tlie America was built. Failing, however, 
in repeated trials, to beat Commodore 
Stevens's yacht Maria, the club were not 
bound to purchase. But the liberality of 
the original oifer was so great, in assuming 
all risk, and the vessel in fact proved her- 
self so fast, that several gentleman, the 
' commodore at the head, determined to buy 



VICTOEIOUS RACE OF THE YACHT AMERICA, 



405 



her and send her out. She was accord- 
ingly purchased, and sent to Havre, there 
to await the arrival of the members of the 
club, who were to sail her, they following 
in a steamer. 

Everything being made ready and com- 
pleted at Havre, they sailed thence to 
Cowes, a seaport of the Isle of Wight — the 
scene of the contemplated regatta. Their 
arrival was greeted with every hospitality 
and courtesy, not only by the noblemen 
and gentlemen of the royal yacht club, but 
by the officers of government. Lord 
Palmerston issued an order that the Amer- 
ica should be admitted in all the English 
ports on the footing of English yachts; 
the custom-houses were all made free to 
her; and the admiral of the station at 




GEORGE STEERS. 

Portsmouth offered every assistance and 
civility. The Earl of Wilton, and the 
veteran Marquis of Anglesea, the latter 
eighty years of age, were among the first 
visitors on board. 

When the time for the regatta came, 
which was to take place on the most dan- 
gerous course possible for a stranger — in 
the waters of the Isle of Wight, with their 
currents and eddies, familiar only to those 
accustomed to the water — great solicitude 
was naturally felt by the Americans, as to 
the pilot to be employed. Warnings of 
all sorts, from various quarters, reached 
them, not to rely too much on any pilot 
that might offer; and the commodore was 
naturally perplexed. But here again the 
English admiral, with an intuitive percep- 
tion of the difficulty — of which no men- 



tion, nevertheless, had ever been made to 
liim — told Commodore Stevens that he 
would furnish him with a pilot for whom 
he himself would be answerable. The 
offer was as frankly accepted as it was 
honorably made. The pilot came on 
board, and never, for a moment, was there 
a suspicion on any mind that he was not 
thoroughly honest and reliable. Yet, so 
strong was the distrust among Americans 
outside, that even after the pilot was in 
charge, the commodore was warned, by 
letter, not to trust too much to him, and 
urged to take another pilot to overlook 
him. But the commodore's own loyalty 
of character would not entertain such a 
proposition — he gave his confidence to 
the pilot the admiral sent him, and it was 
completely justified. 

The London Times said that never, in 
the history of man, did Cowes present such 
an appearance as on the eventful day 
appointed for this race. Upwards of one 
hundred yachts lay at anchor in the roads ; 
the beach was crowded ; and the esplanade 
in front of the club swarmed with ladies 
and gentlemen, and with the people inland, 
who came over in shoals, with wives, sons, 
and daughters, for the day. Booths were 
erected all along the quay, and the road- 
stead was alive with boats, while from 
sea and shore arose an incessant buzz of 
voices mingled with the splashing of oars, 
the flapping of sails, and the hissing of 
steam, from the excursion vessels prepar- 
ing to accompany the race. Flags floated 
from the beautiful villas which stud the 
wooded coast, and ensign and bargee, rich 
with the colors of the various clubs or the 
devices of the yachts, flickered gayly out in 
the soft morning air. The windows of the 
houses which commanded the harbor were 
filled from the parlor to the attic, and the 
"old salts " on the beach gazed moodily on 
the low black hull of " the Yankee," and 
spoke doubtfully of the chances of her 
competitors. Some thought " the Vo- 
lante " might prove a teaser if the wind 
was light; others speculated on "the 
Alarm" doing mischief, if there was wind 
enough to bring out the qualities of that 



406 



VICTOEIOUS EACE OF THE YACHT AMERICA, 



large cutter in beating up to windward 
and in tacking ; while more were of the 
opinion that the America would carry off 
the cup, "blow high — blow low." It was 
with the greatest difficulty the little town 
gave space enough to the multitudes that 
came from all quarters to witness an event 
so novel and interesting. Among the vis- 
itors were countless strangers — Frenchmen 
en route for Havre, Germans in quiet won- 
derment at the excitement around them, 
and Americans already triumphing in the 
anticipated success of their countrymen. 

Eighteen yachts were entered, and were 
moored in a double line from Cowes castle, 
the Beatrice being nearest that point, the 
America about midway, and the Aurora 
farthermost. The mist which hung over 
the fields and woods from sunrise was car- 
ried off about nine o'clock by a very gentle 
breeze from the westward, which veered 
round a little to the south soon afterwards, 
and the morning became intensely warm. 

At five minutes before ten o'clock, the 
preparatory gun was fired from the club- 
house battery, and the yachts were soon 
sheeted from deck to topmast with clouds 
of canvas, huge gaff topsails and balloon 
jibs being greatly in vogue, and the Amer- 
ica evincing her disposition to take advan- 
tage of her new jib by hoisting it with all 
alacrity. The whole flotilla, not in the 
race, were already in motion, many of 
them stretching down towards Osborne 
and Hyde, to get a good start of the clip- 
pers. Of the yachts that entered, fifteen 
started, seven of these being schooners 
and eight cutters. 

Precisely at ten o'clock, the signal gun 
for sailing was fired, and before the smoke 
had well cleared away the whole of the 
beautiful fleet was under way, moving 
steadily to the east, with the tide and a 
gentle breeze. The start was effected 
splendidly, the yachts breaking away like 
r. field of race-horses ; the only laggard 
was the America, which did not move for 
a second or so after the others. Steamers, 
shore-boats, and yachts, of all sizes, buzzed 
along on each side of the course, and 
spread away for miles over the rippling 



sea — a sight such as the Adriatic never 
beheld in all the pride of Venice — such, 
indeed, as was never before known in the 
annals of yachting. Soon after they 
started, a steamer went off from the roads 
with the members of the sailing committee 
— Sir B. Graham, Bart., commodore, of 
the royal yacht squadron, and other distin- 
guished gentlemen. The American minis- 
ter, Hon. Abbott Lawrence, and his son. 
Colonel Lawrence, attache to the American 
legation, arrived too late for the sailing of 
the America, but were accommodated ou 
board the steamer, and went round the 
island in her. 

The Gipsey Queen, with all her canvas 
set and in the strength of the tide, took 
the lead after starting, with the Beatrice 
next, and then, with little difference in 
order, the Volante, Constance, Arrow, and 
a flock of others. The America went 
easily for some time under mainsail, (with 
a small gaff-topsail of a triangular shape, 
braced up to the truck of the short and 
slender stick which served as her main-top- 
mast,) foresail, fore-staysail and jib ; 
while her competitors had every cloth set 
that the club regulations allowed. She 
soon began to creep upon them, passing 
some of the cutters to windward. In a 
quarter of an hour she had left them all 
behind, except the Constance, Beatrice, 
and Gipsey Queen, which were well to- 
gether, and went along smartly with the 
light breeze. Once or twice the wind 
freshened a little, and at once the Amer- 
ica gathered wa}', and passed ahead of the 
Constance and Beatrice. Another puff 
came, and she made a dart to pas.s the 
Gipsey Queen, but the wind left her sails, 
and the little Volante came skimming past 
her with a stupendous jib, swallowing up 
all the wind that was blowing. The glo- 
rious pageant, passing under Otiborne- 
liouse, formed a pageant surpassingly fine, 
the whole expanse of sea, from shore to 
shore, being filled as it were with a count- 
less fleet, while the dark hull of the Ven- 
geance, eighty-four, in the distance at 
Spithead, towered in fine relief above the 
tiny little craft that danced around her ; 



VICTORIOUS RACE OF THE YACHT AMERICA. 



407 



the green hills of Hcampshire, the white 
batteries of Portsmouth, and the pictur- 
esque coast of Wight, forming a fine 
frame-work for the picture. 

As the Volante passed the America, 
great was the delight of the patriotic,, but 
the nautical knowing ones shook their 
heads, and said the triumph would be 
short-lived ; the breeze was freshening, 
and then the sprightly cutter must give 
way, though she was leading the whole 
squadron at the time. At half-past ten, 
the Gipsey Queen caught a draught of 



densely crowded. But the America was 
forging ahead, and lessening the number 
of her rivals every moment. The Sand- 
heads were rounded by the Volante, 
Gipsey Queen, and America, without any 
perceptible change in point of time, at 
eleven o'clock, the last being apparently 
to leeward. Again, the wind freshened, 
and the fast yachts came rushing up before 
it, the run from the Sandheads being most 
exciting, and well contested. Here one of 
the West India mail steamers was ob- 
served paddling her best, to come in for 




YACHT AMERICA : J. C, STEVENS, COM. 



wind and ran past the Volante, — the Con- 
stance, America, Arrow, and Alarm, being 
nearly in a line ; but in fifteen minutes, 
the breeze freshened again for a short 
time and the America passed the Arrow, 
Constance, and Alarm, but could not shake 
off the Volante nor come up to the Gipsey 
Queen, and exclamations were heard of 
" Well, Brother Jonathan is not going to 
have it all his own way," etc. 

Passing Ryde, the excitement on shore 
was very great, and the vast pier was 



some of the fun, and a slight roll of the 
set inwards began to impart a livelier 
motion to the yachts, and to render excur- 
sionists, whether male or female, ghastly^ 
looking and uncomfortable. 

The yachts Volante, Freak, Aurora 
Gipsey Queen, America, Beatrice, Alarm, 
Arrow, and Bacchante, were timed off 
Norman's Land buoy ; the other six were 
staggering about in the rear, and the 
Wyvern soon afterwards hauled her wind, 
and went back towards Cowes. 



408 



VICTOEIOUS RACE OF THE YACHT AMERICA. 



At this point, the wind blew somewhat 
more steadily, and the America began to 
show a touch of her quality. Whenever 
the breeze took the line of her hull, all the 
sails set as flat as a drumhead, and, with- 
out any careening or staggering, she 
" walked along " past cutter and schooner, 
and, when off Brading, had left every 
vessel in the squadron behind her, with 
the exception of the Volante, which she 
overtook at half-past eleven, when she 
very quietly hauled down her jib, — as 
much as to say she would give her rival 
every odds, — and laid herself out for the 
race round the back of the island. The 
weather showed signs of improvement, as 
far as yachting was concerned ; a few sea- 
horses waved their crests over the water, 
the high lands on shore put on their fleecy 
"nightcaps" of cloud, and the horizon 
looked delightfully threatening ; and now 
" the Yankee " flew like the wind, leaping 
over, not against, the water, and increasing 
her distance from the Gipsey Queen, 
Volante, and Alarm, every instant. The 
way her sails were set evinced superiority 
in the cutting which the English makers 
would barely allow, but, certain it was, 
that while the jibs and mainsails of her 
antagonists were "bellied out," her canvas 
was as flat as a sheet of paper. No foam, 
but rather a water-jet rose from her bows ; 
and the greatest jioint of resistance — for 
resistance there must be somewhere — 
seemed about the beam, or just forward of 
her mainmast, for the seas flashed off from 
her sides at that point every time she met 
them. While the cutters were thrashing 
through the water, sending the spray over 
their bows, and the schooners were wet up 
to the foot of the foremast, the America 
was as dry as a bone. She had twent3'-one 
persons on her deck, consisting of the 
owners, the crew, cook, and steward, a 
Cowes pilot, and some seamen. They 
nearly all sat aft, and, when the vessel did 
not require any handling, crouched down 
on the deck by the weather bulwarks. 
The Gipsey Queen, when a little past 
Brading, seemed to have carried away her 
foresail sheets, but even had it not been 



so, she had lost all chance of success. The 
America, as the wind increased, and it was 
now a six-knot breeze, at least, hauled 
down her wee gaff-topsail, and went away 
under mainsail, foresail, and fore-staysail, 
so that it required the utmost the steamer 
could do to keep alongside of her. Th is 
ivas her quickest bit of sailing, for on 
rounding the east point of the island it 
was necessary to beat to the westward, in 
order to get along the back of the Wight. 

At 11:37, the Arrow, Bacchante, Con- 
stance, and Gipsey Queen, stood away to 
the north, to round the Nab, imagining 
that it was requisite to do so, as the usual 
course was to go outside the lightship, 
though the cards did not specify it on this 
occasion. The America and most of the 
other yachts kept their course round the 
Foreland and by Bembridge. She ran 
past the white and black buoys at a tre- 
mendous rate, and, at 11 : 47, tacked to the 
west, and stood in towards the Culver cliffs, 
the nearest yacht being at least two miles 
to leeward or astern of her. She was not 
very quick in stays on this occasion, and 
it would seem she was not very regular in 
that maneuver, sometimes taking a minute, 
sometimes thirty seconds, to perform it. 
At 11 : 58, she stood out again to the south- 
east, and, having taken a stretch of a mile 
or so, went about and ran in towards San- 
down. The breeze died off at this point, 
and to keep the cutters and light craft off, 
the America hoisted her gaff-topsail and 
jib once more. Under Shauklin Chine the 
set of the tide ran heavily against her, but 
still there was nothing to fear, for her 
rivals were miles away, some almost hull 
down. 

While running under Dunnose, at 12 : 58, 
her jib-boom broke short off; it was 
broken by mismanagement on the part of 
the men when straining on it with the 
windlass, and did not snap from the action 
of the sail. This accident threw her up in 
the wind, and gave the advantage of about 
a quarter of an hour to her opponents, 
while she was gathering in the wreck. 
But it was of little use to them. Looking 
away to the east, they were visible at 



VICTOEIOUS EACE OF THE YACHT AMEEICA. 



409 



great distances, standing in shore, or 
running in and out, most helplessly astern 
— the Aurora, Freak, and Volante, in spite 
of light winds and small tonnage, heing 
two or three miles behind The wind fell 
off very much for more than an hour, and 
it was but weary work stretching along 
the coast against a baffling tide, every 
moment making the loss of her ^ib of 
greater consequence to the America 




OCP OF ALL KATIONS," WON BY IHE AMERICA. 



At about 3 : 20, the breeze freshened, 
and the America, still some miles ahead, 
slipped along on her way, making tacks 
with great velocity, and standing well up 
to windward. Her superiority was so 
decided that several of the yachts wore, 
and ivent hack agaiii to Cowes in despair ; 
and, for some time, the America increased 
her distance every second, the Aurora, 
Freak, and Volante, keeping in a little 
squadron together — tack for tack — and 



running along close under the cliffs. This 
was rather unfortunate in one respect, for, 
in going about, the Freak fouled the 
Volante and carried away her jib-boom ; 
and the boatman's pet became thereby 
utterly disabled, and lost the small glimpse 
of fortune which the light winds might 
have given her. 

Meanwhile, minute after minute, " the 
Yankee " was gaining ground, and at 3 : 30 
was flying past St. Lawrence towards Old 
Castle, while the Bacchante and Eclipse, 
which had been working along honestly 
and steadily, were about two and a half 
miles to leeward behind her. Further 
away still, were visible five or six j-achts, 
some hull down, some dipi^ed further still, 
digging into the tideway as hard as they 
could, and lying into the wind as well as 
their sails might stand it. 

By this time, the America had got the 
wind on her quarter, having gone round 
Eocken-end, and thus having a tolerably 
fair course from the south to north-west, 
up to the Needles, the wind being light 
and the water somewhat broken. The 
persons on board the steamers were greatly 
astonished at seeing ahead of the America, 
after she had rounded Eocken-end, a fine 
cutter with a jib and foresail together — 
"two single gentlemen rolled into one," 
bowling away with all speed, as if racing 
away for her life, and it was sometime 
before they could be persuaded she was 
not the Aurora; but she was in reality the 
Wildfire, forty-two tons, which was taking 
a little share in the match to herself, and 
had passed the End at 3 : 40. The Amer- 
ica, however, bore straight down for the 
cutter, which was thoroughly well-sailed, 
and passed her after a stern chase of more 
than an hour, though the Wildfire, when 
first sighted, was reckoned to be some two 
and a half miles ahead. 

At 5 : 40, the Aurora, the nearest yacht, 
was fully seven and one-half miles astern, 
the Freak being about a mile more distant, 
and the rest being "nowhere." The 
America was at this time close to the 
Needles, upon which she was running with 
a light breeze all in her favor. 



410. 



VICTORIOUS RACE OF THE YACHT AMERICA. 



Two of the excursion steamers ran into 
Alum Bay, and anchored there to see the 
race round the Needles. While waiting 
there in intense anxiety for the first vessel 
that should shoot round the immense pil- 
lars of chalk and limestone which bear the 
name, the passengers were delighted to 
behold the Victoria and Albert, with the 
royal standard at the main, and the Lord 
Admiral's flag at the fore, steaming round 
from the north-west, followed by the 
Fairy, and the little dock-yard tender. 
Her majesty, Prince Albert, and the royal 
family, were visible by the aid of a glass 
from the deck of the steamers. The royal 
yacht went past the Needles, accompanied 
by the Fairy, at 5 : 35, but quickly re- 
turned, and at 5 : 45 lay to, off Alum Bay. 
The Fairy was signaled to proceed round 
the Needles, to bring tidings of the race, 
and at once started on her errand. 

But all doubt and speculation, if any 
there could have been, was soon removed 
by the appearance of the America hauling 
her wind round the cliff, at 6 : 50. The 
breeze fell dead under the sliore, and the 
America lowered out her foresail and fore- 
staysail so as to run before it. All the 
steamers weighed and accompanied her, 
giving three cheers as she passed, a com- 
pliment which owners and crews acknowl- 
edged with uncovered heads and waving 
hats. At 6 : 04 the Wildfire rounded the 
Needles, and bore away after the schooner, 
which by this time had got almost in a 
line with the Victoria and Albert ; and, 
though it is not usual to recognize the 
presence of her majesty on such occasions 
as a racing match — no more, indeed, than 
a jockey would pull up his horse to salute 
the queen, when in the middle of his 
stride, — the America instantly lowered her 
ensign, blue with white stars, the commo- 
dore took off his hat, and all his crew, fol- 
lowing his order and example, remained 
with uncovered heads for some minutes, 
till they had passed the royal yacht. The 
steamers, as she passed on, renewed their 
cheering. 

On turning towards the Needles, at 
6:30, not a sail was in sight, but the 



breeze was so very light that all sailing 
might be said to have finished ; and it was 
evident that the America had won the 
cup, unless some light cutter ran up with 
a breeze in the dusk and slipped past her. 
The steamers returned towards Cowes, and 
the ro^al yacht, having run close by the 
America under half-steam for a short dis- 
tance, went on towards Osborne. Off 
Cowes were innumerable j-achts, and on 
every side was heard the hail, "7s the 
America first?" — The answer, "Yes." 
"What's second?"— The reply, "Noth- 
intj." 

As there was no wind, the time con- 
sumed in getting up from Hurst Castle to 
the winning flag was very considerable, 
the America's arrival first not having 
been announced by gunfire till 8 : 37. The 
Aurora, which slipped up very rapidly 
after rounding the Needles, in consequence 
of her light tonnage and a breath of wind, 
was signaled at 8 : 45 ; the Bacchante at 
9 : 30 ; the Eclipse at 9 : 45 ; the Brilliant 
at 1 : 20 a. m., August 23d. The rest were 
not timed. Thus the America made good 
all her professions, and to Commodore 
Stevens was presented, by the royal yacht 
squadron, the well-won cup. 

On the evening after the race there was 
a splendid display of fire-works by land 
and water along the club-house esplanade, 
at which thousands of persons were pres- 
ent. A re-union also took place at the 
club-house, and the occasion was taken of 
the Hon. Abbott Lawrence's presence to 
compliment him on the success of his 
countrj'men ; to which his excellency made 
a suitable reply, humorously remarking 
that, though he could not but be proud of 
his fellow-citizens, he still felt it was but 
the children giving a lesson to the father 
— and if the America should be purchased 
by English friends, the Yankees would 
nevertheless try to build something better 
in New York, so as to beat even her ! 

The queen having intimated her desire 
to inspect the America, the latter sailed 
from Cowes to Osborne, where the Victoria 
and Albert also dropped down. As the 
queen, with Prince Albert, and suite, neared 



VICTORIOUS RACE OF THE YACHT AMERICA. 



411 



the America, the national colors of that 
vessel were dipped, out of respect to lier 
majesty, and raised again when she had 
proceeded on board. The queen made a 
close inspection of the vessel, attended by 
Commodore Stevens, Colonel Hamilton, 
and the offiuers of the yacht, remaining 
half an hour on board, and expressing 
great admiration of the famous schooner. 
Indeed, the America's beautiful and ingen- 
ious mode!, and her remarkable sailing 
qualities, were the astonishment of every- 
body. 

The triumph of the America was due 
alike to her superior model and to the 
unique cut and fit of her sails. The first 
thing that met the eye, whether the vessel 
was afloat or in dock, was the position of 
the greatest transverse section — in ap- 
pearance situated at about ten-seventeenths 
of her whole length from forward ; at this 
section, the bottom was nearly straight for 
several feet out from the keel, while the 
two sides included an angle of about one 
hundred degrees. At the forepart, her 
appearance contrasted strangely with the 
observances of modern ship-building. 



namely, the avoidance of hollow water- 
lines, hers being very concave, and her 
forefoot exceedingly short, or, in other 
words, the lower part of the stem and 
gripe forming a long curve, and therefore 
only a small rudder being needed; in con- 
sequence of this, there was, in steering, 
but little impediment opposed to her pas- 
sage through the water ; the great draught 
of her water aft, eleven feet four inches, 
with only six feet forward, added also to 
her facility in steering. Any defect that 
might be expected to result from this in 
sailing on a wind, was quite avoided by 
her great depth of keel, — two feet two 
inches amidships. The copper was placed 
upon her bottom with great care, and 
every possible projection avoided, in order 
to diminish the friction in passing through 
the water. But by far the most distin- 
guishing feature of the America was the 
set of her sails. The bellying of the sails 
of yachts universally — not only when 
running free, but also when sailing on a 
wind — was, in the case of the America, 
avoided to a very great extent, and from 
this arose much of her superiority. 



LI. 
RECEPTION OF GOV. KOSSUTH, THE GREAT HUNGA- 
RIAN EXILE, AS THE INVITED GUEST OF THE 
NATION.— 1851. 



Splendid Military Pageant in New York, on His Arrival. — Welcomed and Banqueted by President Fill- 
more. — Received willi Distinguished Official Honors on the Floor of Congress. — He Eloquently 
Pleads His Country's Cause in all Parts of the Land. — Processions, Congratulatory Addresses, Accla- 
mations, etc. — A True-Hearted Patriot — Wliat Hungary Fought for. — Austrian Despotism Resisted. 
— Independence Demanded. — Kossuth the Leading Champion. — Armies in the Field. — Successes and 
Reverses. — Russia's Sword for Austria. — Kossuth's Flight to Turkey. — Long an Exile There. — 
America Interposes for Him. — Offers a Conveyance to the United States. — Tlie Nation's Courtesy 
Accepted. — Frigate Mississippi Sent. — Kossath and Suite on Board. — His Landing at New York. — 
Magnificent Preparations for Him. — Invited to Washington. — Speech before Congress. — An Unprec- 
edented Distinction. — His Untiring Labors. — Greatest Orator of the Day. 



" Freedom and Home t what henvenlr mueic in those wordfll AUb, I have no home, and tb« fisedom of my people ia down-trodden." 

^KOSSUTU.UN U18 AbRITAL IN AMKBIC*. 




^OSSUTH'S reception in the United States, as the great 
^ advocate of Hungarian independence, was, in some of its 
I P most interesting aspects, like that accorded to the ilhistri- 



KECEPTION OF KOSSUTH, THE HUNGARIAN EXILE. 



413 



ous Lafayette. In the case of Kossuth, 
however, instead of homage for services 
rendered in the dark hour of our nation's 
peril, the welcome extended him was the 
tribute, spontaneous as well as universal, 
of a great and admiring republic, to one 
of the bravest and most eloquent of jja- 
triots, enthusiastically appealing, in his 
-^xile, to the generous sympathies of man- 
kind, in behalf of his father-land, — a jjeople 
strong and valorous, but crushed beneath 
the heavy chains of Austrian despotism, 
backed by the power of Russian baj'onets. 

Louis Kossuth was born in 1806, at 
!Monok, in the north of Hungarj', of pa- 
rents not rich, yet possessing land, and 
calling themselves noble. His native dis- 
trict was a Protestant one, and in the 
pastor of that district young Kossuth 
found his first teacher. His parents dj'ing, 
the youth, more devoted to books than 
farming, was dispatched to the provincial 
college, where he remained till the age of 
eighteen, having earned even at that time 
the reputation of being the most able and 
promising youth of the whole district. In 
1826, he removed to the university of 
Pesth, where he came in contact with the 
progressive political influences and ideas 
of the time ; and these, blending with his 
own historic studies and youthful hoj^es, 
soon produced the ardent, practical patriot. 

According to the constitution of Hun- 
gary, the electoral body — called "Comi- 
tats," — treated those elected to sit in the 
Diet more as delegates than as deputies. 
They gave them precise instructions, and 
expected the members not only to conform 
to them, but to send regular accounts of 
their conduct to their constituents for due 
sanction, and with a view to fresh instruc- 
tions. This kind of communication was 
rather an onerous task for the Hungarian 
country gentlemen, and hence many of 
the deputies employed such young men as 
Kossuth to transact their political business, 
and conduct their correspondence. Acting 
in this capacity for many members of the 
Diet, Kossuth not only became an expert 
parliamentary agent, but won great polit- 
ical esteem and influence. 



This kind of position soon made Kos- 
suth a member himself, and from the very 
first he distinguished himself in the Diet 
as a speaker. Under his lead, too, the 
Diet proceeded to establish a journal for 
the publication of its debates, but which, 
being garbled and curtailed by the Aus- 
trian censors, soon passed into Kossuth's 
hands exclusively, who extended the scope 
of the journal by inserting editorial arti- 
cles. The character of these articles so 
incensed the Austrian authorities, that 
they seized his presses. In a short time, 
however, Kossuth's rejjorts and articles 
were printed b}' the then new method of 
lithograjjhy, and circulated even more 
largely, notwithstanding the increased 
labor and expense. This success but 
redoubled the inveteracy of the Austrian 
government, which dissolved the Diet, and 
were no sooner rid of its control and 
importunity, than they discovered and 
destroyed all Kossuth's lithographic appa- 
ratus. But even this did not stop his pen 
nor those of his many amanuenses ; until 
at last Metternich, the prime minister, ex- 
asperated by Kossuth's obstinacy, caused 
him to be seized and condemned to impris- 
onment, for the crime of treason. The 
indignation and agitation which followed 
this act, ended, eventually, in his release. 

Unterrified by prisons and dungeons, 
Kossuth, aided by the counsels and co-ope- 
ration of his associates, continued to stir 
the hearts of his countr^nnen, and to 
demand political independence for his 
country. Among the many men of noble 
birth, wealth, national renown, and exalted 
talents, who surrounded him, Kossuth 
shone pre-eminent In 1847, he was the 
acknowledged leader of the constitutional 
party, and member for the Hungarian cap- 
ital. Nor did he falter when many broke 
off from him, and refused to follow his 
extreme measures of resistance. Of this 
last class were the Hungarian aristocracy, 
turning to whom, Kossuth ironically said, 
" Witk you, if you choose ; without you, 
or against you, if it inust be." 

The vehemency with which he advo- 
cated the right and ability of the people of 



414 RECEPTION OF KOSSUTH, THE HUNGARIAN EXILE. 



Hungary to govern themselves was aston- 
ishing, and multitudes rallied to his stand- 
ard. Nothing in modern eloquence equals 
his speeches and proclamations at this 
time. He also vigorously assailed the 
tariff system imposed upon Hungary, and 
which crippled her industry, thrift, and 
power, — a point which he used to great 
advantage in gaining public opinion. Up 
to 1847, he thus continued, with matchless 
eloquence and amazing activity, to secure 
a reform in the institutions and laws 
affecting his country, — a transformation of 
her moral, political, and material interests, 
as against the hostile polic}- of Austrian 
absolutism. It was a struggle for the 
rights of Hungary, in all circumstances 
and against all foes. And now came that 
eventful year in the history of Europe, 
1848, which drove Louis Philippe in terror 
from the throne of France, and filled 
almost every capital of empires and king- 
doms with the bayonets of those who, long 
oppressed, resolved now to be free. Tliis 
was the hour for Hungary, and Kossuth 
was the man ! In a long series of years, 
with the pen, with the press, and as an 
orator, be had circumvented and repelled 
the arts of Austrian despotism. The time 
had now come to create a treasury, organ- 
ize an army, and accept the wager of 
battle. Under the lead of Kossuth's ani- 
mating spirit was this accomplished ; and 
the motley bands of Hungarian recruits, 
under the direction of Kossuth as governor 
of the nation, waged, for a time, such vic- 
torious warfare against the veteran legions 
of Austria, as fairly astonished the world. 
It was in March, 1848, that the spirit of 
revolution broke out in Vienna, the Aus- 
trian capital. Metternich, the wily tool 
of tyrants, fled in dismay. Kossuth en- 
tered the capital in triumph ! Terror- 
stricken at the gulf of ruin which yawned 
before him, the emperor made haste to 
grant concessions, namely, the emancipa- 
tion of the Hungarian peasantry from 
feudal burdens, a fair representation of the 
whole people in the Diet, the abolition of 
all exemptions from taxation, the freedom 
of the press, and trial by jury. But, not- 



withstanding the emperor's assent to these 
enactments, the Austrian government was 
soon engaged in fomenting grave difficul- 
ties in Hungarian affairs, and this led to 
those great military preparations on the 
part of Kossuth, which rapidly took the 
form of active and bloody war. 

With great vigor and spirit did the 
brave Hungarians carry on the campaign, 
and for a time their armies were every- 
where successful. But afterwards, Russia 
came and flung both sword and purse into 




the scale, and, though the armies of the 
tyrants had suffered five great defeats and 
lost every military position they had 
gained, the odds of numbers against the 
struggling patriots had now become too 
vast to admit of successful resistance on 
their part. Buda was stormed and taken 
possession of by the Hungarians in May, 
but immense Russian forces were in a few 
weeks collected on the frontiers, and in 
July they simultaneously poured into Hun- 
gary from the north and east, while the 
Croats, under Jellachich, advanced from 
the south, and the Austrians from the 
west. The struggle was soon terminated. 
Gorgey, the Hungarian general, surren- 
dered with his army of forty thousand men 
to the Russians, only two days after the 
governorship of the country had been 
resigned to him by Kossuth. Other sur- 
renders soon followed, and thus the wal 
ended. 



EECEPTION OF KOSSUTH, THE HUNGARIAN EXILE. 



415 



During this struggle, the forces brought 
into the field at any one time by the Hun- 
garians, never exceeded one hundred and 
thirty-five thousand men, with four hun- 
dred pieces of artillery ; against whom 
were opposed, in the final campaign, one 
hundred and fifty thousand Russians, and 
one hundred and ten thousand Austrian 
troops, besides insurgent Wallacks, Servi- 
ans, etc., making a total of three hundred 
thousand men. 

Thus jjerlshed, through Russian inter- 
vention, the cause of Hungarian nation- 
ality. 

Kossuth's name had been nailed to the 
Austrian gallows, and he fled as an exile 
into Turkey. Austria and Russia de- 
manded that he be delivered up, but France 
and England interposed iu his behalf, and 
the sultan continued to protect him in the 
asylum which he had chosen. At length, 
the offer of a resolution in the senate of the 
United States, that the American govern- 
ment should exert its influence in behalf 
of the exiles, seemed likely to solve the 
difficulty. This resolution passed. As 
soon as the sultan — who certainly had 
risked the safety of Turkey in disregard- 
ing the threats of Austria and Russia — 
received the assurance of the support of 
America and England, he not only at- 
tached no condition to their liberation, but 
gave them the choice of being conveyed to 
England or America, as they preferred. 
The legation of the United States at Con- 
stantinople having assured Kossuth that 
no restraint would be put upon his liberty 
in America, he gratefully accepted the 
offer made by congress, and wrote a letter 
of thanks to President Fillmore. 

In September, 1851, the fine American 
steam-frigate Mississippi arrived for the 
conveyance of the late governor of Hun- 
gary, his wife, his three children, and his 
friends, to whatever countr}' they desired. 
Soliman Bey, the Turkish guard of the 
refugees during their exile, and who had 
never failed in the most respectful atten- 
tions to thera, was overcome with emotion 
when Kossuth came to leave, and in part- 
ing said to him, " You are free, and now 



you will find friends everywhere ; do not 
forget those who were your friends when 
you had no other." From their first 
entrance into Turkey to the hour of their 
leaving, the Hungarians had experienced 
unvarying kindness, hospitality, and cour- 
tesy. 

Kossuth proposed to pay a short visit to 
England, on his way to the United States. 
As the Mississippi approached the coasts 
of Italy and France, bonfires were kindled 
along the heights, as a sign of rejoicing. 
Kossuth proposed to stop at Marseilles, 
and travel thence to England, but the 
French authorities, by direction of Louis 
Napoleon, would not permit him to land. 
The people of France, however, gave him 
ample demonstration that they were not 
responsible for the acts of the government ; 
they crowded around the ship, offering 
him garlands of laurel, while they pre- 
sented wreaths of everlasting to the Amer- 
icans, and filled the air with enthusiastic 
cheers. While opposite the shores of 
Marseilles, an operative came, notwith- 
standing the cold, swimming through the 
water, on board the frigate, to grasp Kos- 
suth's hand. Kossuth pressed the work- 
man's hand most warmly, and gently 
reproached him for his temerity. 'Que 
voulez vous,' he replied ; ' I desired to 
touch your hand, I could not find a boat, I 
took to the water, and here I am. Are 
there any obstacles to him who wills ? ' 

Landing at Gibraltar, Kossuth took pas- 
sage in the English steamer Madrid for 
Southampton, and, after a most enthusi- 
astic reception in the principal English 
cities by the hard-working masses, they 
left for America. To the great republic 
of the west he had been invited by con- 
gress, and here he was received as the 
nation's guest by the president, by sena^ 
tors and representatives, by governors and 
legislators, by men in the highest station, 
and by the whole mass of the people. 
He arrived off Staten Island, December 
fifth, and was received by an official depu- 
tation who came on board to welcome him 
to the United States. 

Saturday, December rixth, was the dr.^ 



416 



KECEPTION OF KOSSUTH, THE HUNGARIAN EXILE. 



fixed upon by the great metropolis of the 
nation, to celebrate his landing in Amer- 
ica ; a few days before, President Fillmore 
had announced to congress the arrival of 
their illustrious guest. The very skies of 
heaven, by their brightness and serenity, 
deemed to jxarticipate in the welcome 
accorded to the distinguished chief. At 
an early hour, the streets were filled with 
a vast concourse. The decorations of the 
streets, public buildings, private houses, 
and places of business, were on a large 
scale and in a style of imposing magnifi- 
cence. Myriads of eager spectators filled 
the space from the Park to Castle Garden, 
intent on gaining an early glimpse of the 
world-renowned guest of j)atriotic Ameri- 
can hosijitality. 

The steamer that had been provided to 
bring Kossuth up to the city, was decor- 
ated at the bows with a large Hungarian 
standard, and underneath, on the same 
flag-pole, was the flag of the sliip. At the 
stern, a large United States banner, bear- 
ing the stars and stripes, floated, and 
showed a beautiful contrast with the Hun- 
garian flag. On the arrival of the chief- 
tain at the steamer, he was recognized by 
his Hungarian hat, and large velvet em- 
broidered coat, and a spontaneous burst of 
applause rose from the anxious company 
who were looking out from the vessel. At 
this moment, the band struck up " Hail to 
the Chief," and the salute from the guns 
of the steamer began, which was the signal 
for another burst of enthusiastic applause. 
After much pushing and crowding, in 
which neither ladies nor Hungarians were 
much respected, the party got on board, 
and the steamer put off into the bay, the 
greeting of crowds on the shore being per- 
fectly tumultuous. On getting upon the 
boat, Kossuth remained for some time 
viewing the expansive bay, and listening 
to the descriptions of its various portions. 

At half-past twelve o'clock, the steamer 
came to, at Castle Garden, and the com- 
pany began to debark. An avenue was 
formed by the police and m^'litary, through 
which, Kossuth, his staff, and the other 
gentlemen passed to the large room, which 



they reached after much crushing and 
pushing. Among the throng of eager 
expectants in the Garden was a large rep- 
resentation of ladies. The actual arrival 
of Kossuth was the signal for an uncon- 
trollable uproar, and a fearful rush was 
made toward the door by which he was to 
enter. There was no such thing as keep- 
ing order ; cries of " There he is," " Hur- 
rah," deafening cheers and shouts, set law 
and order completely at defiance. When 
he was fairly recognized by the multitude, 
a shout was given that threatened to raise 
the vast roof from its place. Nearly a 
quarter of an hour of indescribable exulta- 
tion ensued, and all the beseeching ges- 
tures of the mayor and committee were 
unheeded. 

Finally, the mayor, who was surrounded 
by the common council and the officers of 
the military companies, presented an ad- 
dress to Kossuth, and then said : 

" 1 2>resent to you, my fellow-citizens, 
Kossuth, tha illustrious Chief of Hun- 
yary." 

Kossuth bowed his acknowledgments of 
the enthusiastic cheers of the crowd, and 
then proceeded to reply in a speech of 
most masterly eloquence and power. 

As soon as the illustrious exile left the 
Garden and made his appearance in the 
Hattery, the acclamations of the tens of 
thousands present burst forth in almost a 
simultaneous cheer, dense and far-reaching 
though the crowd was. He was provided 
with a horse, and, surrounded by his com- 
panions in exile, rode round the ranks. 
Tlie different comjjanies, with their em- 
blazoned standards, shining armor, and 
splendid uniforms, went through their 
evolutions in superb style. 

Tlie scene at the moment Kossuth's 
carriage, in its place in the grand proces- 
sion, entered on Broadway, surpassed 
description. Every window of that wide 
and magnificent thoroughfare, as far as 
the eye could see, was alive with human 
beings, and, amidst the waving of hand- 
kerchiefs, by as beautiful an array of the 
fair sex as could be witnessed, who were 
most enthusiastic in their applause, the 



EECEPTION OF KOSSUTH, THE HUNGAEIAN EXILE. 



117 



honored guest passed onward. It was with 
tlie greatest difficulty that the line of the 
movement could be kept in order, in con- 
sequence of the rush of the human tide 
that endeavored to keep up with the car- 
riage containing Kossuth. Every avenue 
leading from Broadway, lent its quota of 
spectators, to swell up the teeming mass. 
Many who had witnessed similar exhibi- 
tions of popular enthusiasm from the time 
of Lafaj-ette's arrival in 1824, said that 
this ovation to Kossuth exceeded all. 
Kossuth returned the greetings he re- 
ceived with tliat grace and dignity always 



For some time, Kossuth gave himself up 
to receiving deputations and their congrat- 
ulatory addresses. These hailed from all 
parts of the land, and represented states, 
municipalities, corporations, ecclesiastical 
and political bodies, and innumerable soci- 
eties of various names, objects, and nation- 
alities. One of these deputations con- 
sisted of German citizens from Albany, 
and, after the usual exchange of formal 
addresses, Kossuth, taking each one kindly 
by the hand, bade him adieu, and spoke a 
few words of cheer. Approaching one of 
the bystanders who had accompanied ono 




OKAND MILrrAET EECEPTION OP GOVEKHOR KOSSUTH, IN NEW YOKK. 



SO characteristic of him. Yet, he seemed 
the least interested of any one in the 
pageant — the key to his sadness being 
found, doubtless, in that memorable senti- 
ment uttered b3'him in one of his speeches: 
" Freedom and Iwme ! what heavenly 
music in those two words ! Alas, I have 
no home, and the freedom of my people is 
down-trodden ! " Such, indeed, was the pen- 
sive strain in which Kossuth alwaj's spoke 
of himself and of his ill-fated father-land. 
27 



deputation, Kossuth took him by the 
hand and inquired if he too was an Al- 
banian. 

" No, I am a Jersey man," replied the 
interrogated, whose fair complexion, and 
presence with the German company, had 
evidently occasioned the mistake. " There 
are several of us here from the state of 
New Jersey," exclaimed an old farmer, 
"ive have come fiftij miles to see you.'' 
"Believe me, my friends," replied Ko3- 



418 RECEPTION OF KOSSUTH, THE HUNGARIAN EXILE. 



suth, " I deeply appreciate your kindness. 
It is these little attentions that most 
touch my heart. Adieu." Incidents like 
this were constantly occurring. 

In Philadelphia, Kossuth was received 
in Independence Hall, where the immor- 
tal Declaration of American Independence 
had been proclaimed just three-quarters of 
a century ago. From Philadelphia he 
went to Baltimore, where he was escorted 
to his hotel by a vast concourse of people, 
and a long line of military. The city 
council had voted resolutions expressive of 
their sympathy with the exiles, and with 
their struggles for independence, and had 
sent to New York an address welcoming 
Kossuth and his companions. Kossuth 
now, therefore, in the hall of the Maryland 
Institute, expressed his thanks to the citi- 
zens of Baltimore. 

He reached Washington on the thirtieth 
of December, where a committee consisting 
of Senators Seward, Cass, and Shields, had 
been appointed to officially welcome him 
to the nation's capital. The secretary of 
state, Daniel Webster, was among the first 
to visit Kossuth, and to mark his respect 
for him. When asked, a few days later, 
what he thought of the Hungarian exile, 
he replied: "He has the manners of a 
kitiff — his is a rot/nl nature." 

The following day, after the president's 
levee, the rooms of Kossuth were crowded 
with visitors, citizens and dignitaries, who 
came, not only to see the man whose fame 
had filled two hemispheres, but to honor 
the noble cause he represented. On the 
sixth of January, Kossuth dined with the 
president of the United States, and other 
high officials, at the executive mansion. 
He was also invited to an audience given 
by the president to the Indian delegations 
from the far west. On the sevent'v the 
congress of the United States invitea him 
to the capitol, an honor which had never 
before been bestowed upon any individual, 
excepting Lafayette. The galleries and 
lobbies were crowded with ladies, and as he 
entered, the members of the house all rose, 
while the chairman of the committee intro- 
duced him in these words : 



" Mr. Speaker, I have the honor on the 
part of the committee, to present Governor 
Louis Kossuth to the house of represent- 
atives." 

To which the speaker replied : 

" As the organ of this body, I have the 
honor to extend to Louis Kossuth a 
cordial welcome to the house of represent- 
atives." 

Kossuth then said : 

" Sir, it is a remarkable fact in the his- 
tory of mankind, that while, through a'l 
the past, honors were bestowed upon glori, , 
and glory was attached only to success, the 
legislative authorities of this great repub- 
lic bestow honors upon a persecuted exile, 
not conspicuous by glory, not favored by 
success, but engaged in a just cause. 
There is a triumph of republican princi- 
ples in this fact. Sir, I thank in my own 
and my country's name, the house of rep- 
resentatives of the United States, for the 
honor of this cordial welcome." 

After he had taken the seat prepared 
for him, the house was adjourned, to 
allow those who had assembled to witness 
this introduction to be presented to Kos- 
suth. 

In the evening, a banquet was given 
him by the members of both houses of 
congress, presided over by Hon. W. R. 
King, vice-president of the United States. 
Kossuth was placed at his right hand, and 
Daniel Webster, secretary of state, at his 
left. The speaker of the house sat at 
Kossuth's side. This was indeed a great 
occasion for Kossuth, and nobly did he 
bear himself. Senators, judges, diplomats, 
military and naval dignitaries, and cabinet 
ministers, were there to do him honor. 
After the health of the president, and of 
the judiciary of the United States, had 
been given. Judge Wayne of the supreme 
court proposed : " Constitutional liberty to 
all the nations of the earth, sujiported by 
Christian faith and the morality of the 
Bible ; " a toast which was enthusiastically 
received. The presiding officer then gave : 
"Hungary: represented in the person of 
our honored guest ; having proved herself 
worthy to be free, by the virtues and valor 



RECEPTION OF KOSSUTH, THE HUNGARIAN EXILE. 



419 



of her sons, the law of nations and the 
dictates of justice alike demand that sJie 
shall have fair play in her struggle for 
independence." Kossuth replied in a long 
and eloquent speech. The secretary of 
state, in his speech, gave an authorized 
assurance of President Fillmore's " kind- 
ness and good wishes toward the guest of 
the nation," and also expressed his own 
high appreciation of Kossuth, his country 
and his cause. Other speeches were made 
by the great orators of the nation there 
assembled, and nothing could exceed the 
magnificence of this occasion, in respect 
to the character and fame of those in 
attendance, the splendor of the intel- 
lectual efforts of the speakers, and the 
sumptuousness of the banquet in its ma- 
terial aspects. 

To the far west, the south, and again to 
the east, Kossuth extended his tour, plead- 
ing the cause of his down-trodden country, 
and receiving honors and distinctions, such 
as a king might covet, from one end of the 
broad land to the other. Cities gave him 
the freedom of their municipalities ; legis- 
latures and governors invited him to the 
capitals of their states; and the people 
everywhere rushed to welcome him. But 
in one thing, Kossuth was bitterly disap- 
pointed, namelj', in not securing the active 
interference of the United States in behalf 
of his country's rights. With all his vast 
powers of eloquence and logic, in demon- 
strating the law of nations in this regard, 
he invoked the strong arm of the Ameri- 
can republic to interpose for Hungarian 
nationality. But, though willing to pro- 
claim to the whole world, sympathy and 
accord with the Hungarian movement, the 
American government felt obliged to re- 
frain from any acts of positive interven- 
tion, as contrary to national usage and 
policy. 

After remaining in the United States 
about six months, during which he made 
nearly three hundred speeches, about one 
hundred of which were elaborate orations, 
Kossuth departed for England. A patri- 
otic fund which had been raised in Amer- 
ica for the cause he advocated, was 



intrusted to him for the service of his 
countrj' ; but, after watching for many 
years the political skies of Europe, and 
bringing to bear all the resources of his 
fertile mind upon the questions and events 
affecting the destiny of his country, he at 
last saw the once brightened horizon of his 
beloved father-land settle in the hopeless 
darkness of confirmed and accepted Aus- 
trian rule. 

In his appearance and manners, while a 
visitor to this countrj', Kossuth was de- 
scribed by those who enjoyed frequent 
opportunities of personal contact, as being 
five feet eight inches in height, with a 
rather slight frame, and a face expressive 
of a penetrating intellect — long, with a 
broad forehead, and the chin narrow, but 
square in its form. His hair thin in front, 
and of a dark brown, the same as his 
beard, which was quite long, but not very 
thick, and arranged with neatness and 
taste. He wore a moustache, heavy and 
somewhat long. His eyes, very large and 
of a light blue, well set beneath a full and 
arched brow ; complexion pale, occasioned, 
doubtless, by his long captivity and inces- 
sant application. His countenance was 
characterized by an aspect of almost mel- 
ancholy earnestness, of refinement, and of 
gentleness, mingled with manly fire, and 
an air of prompt, decisive action. 

In speaking, nothing could be more 
incomparably dignified and graceful than 
Kossuth's manner ; gestures more admira^ 
ble and effective, and a play of countenance 
more magnetic and winning, could not be 
conceived. He always stood quite erect, 
instead of frequently bending forward, as 
is the case with some orators, to give 
emphasis to a sentence. His posture and 
appearance in repose indicated greatness, 
by their essential grace and dignity, and 
impressed the beholder with a sense of 
marked individuality and power. This 
sense of reserved power in the man — the 
certainty that he was not making an effort 
and doing his utmost, but that behind all 
this strength of fascination, there were 
other treasures of ability not brought into 
notice, and perhaps never made use of — 



420 



RECEPTION OF KOSSUTH, THE HUNGAEIAN EXILE. 



constituied one of the great charms of his 
oratory. He spoke as if with lii^tle prepa- 
ration, and with that peculiar freshness 
which belongs to extemporaneous speak- 
ing; every movement seemed perfectly 



easy, and he gesticulated a good deal, 
equally well with either arm. The uni- 
versal remark concerning bim in this 
respect was, that he was the greatest of 
living orators. 



LU. 

EXHIBITION" OF THE INDUSTRY OF ALL NATIONS, IN 

NEW YORK.— 1853. 



Construction of the Crystal Palace, a Colossal Building of Glass and Iron — Four Acres of Surface Cot- 
ered with the Treasures of Art, Science, and Mechanism, from Every Land. — Inauguration of the 
Enterprise by President Pierce — Five Thousand Contributors. — Splendor of the Palace of Industry 
by Day ; Its Gorgeous Illumination at Night. — Eclat of the Great London Fair. — Emulation Stimu- 
lated Abroad. — An American Exhibition Proposed. — Popularity of the Idea. — Plan for a Building 
Accepted. — Its Style, Size, and Decorations. — Admirable Adaptation of the Structure. — Superiority 
to the London Palace. — Rapid Progress of the Enterprise. — Interest of Foreign Countries Enlisted. 
— Programme of Management. — Brilliant Ceremony at the Opening. — Celebrities Present : Speeches 
Made. — Grand Hallelujah Chorus Sung. — Constant Tide of Visitors. — Beauty, Utility, Amusement. 
— Attractions from Abroad. — Contributions by Monarchs. — Victoria's Beautiful Offering. — The Grand 
Industries of Civilization — Lesson Taught by Such a Display. — Luster Reflected on America. 



" Worthy of the jjrahdeBt circumetencee which could be thrown around a human aseembly, worthy of this occaaiOD, and a hundred like 
thie, is that beauttful idea, the Coronation or Labor."— £Liitti Bui:eitt. 




IHTEEIOE OF THE WORLD'S FAIB, NEW VOEK. 



OLLOWTNG the brilliant and 
successful example of England, 
in the erection of a colossal crj's- 
tal palace in Hyde Park, London, 
for a World's Fair, in 1851,— 
and into which flowed the treas- 
ures of art, science, and mechan- 
ism, from the four quari-srs of the 
globe, — American enterprise con- 
ceived the idea of a similar struc- 
ture, for the exhibition of the 
industry of all nations, in the 
commercial metropolis of Amer- 
ica ; and this idea, so popular in 
view of the splendid eclat attend- 
ing the vast and magnificent 
display in London, was soon car- 
ried forward to a complete and 
happy consummation. 

The idea of such a grand na- 
tional di.splay became, in a short 



422 



WORLD'S FAIE IN NEW YORK. 



time, the all engrossing one, from one end 
of the land to the other, and the public 
men at the seat of government urged upon 
the United States rej)resentatives at for- 
eign courts, a sense of the importance of 
the great enterprise, and the desirableness 
of contributions from abroad. It was 
viewed as an undertaking which, if con- 
ducted with energy and sagacity, would 
add luster to the American nation, as 
showing its appreciation of the luxuries 
and refinements of art, as well as of the 
more substantial exhibitions of human 
industry, in the shape of manufactures, 
machinery, etc. 

In one respect, the American exhibition 
differed from its London predecessor, 
namely : the latter was under the free and 
unlimited auspices of the English govern- 
ment, with its boundless resources, while 
the former was undertaken by a company 
of individuals. It was not, however, an 
exclusively private speculation, but existed 
under a charter granted by the legislature, 
the company being known, in their corpo- 
rate style, as the " Association for the 
Exhibition of the Industry of All Nations," 
comprising men of eminence in all the 
influential spheres of society, and of this 
Association. Mr. Theodore Sedgwick re- 
ceived the high honor of being elected 
president. So vast and multitudinous, 
however, were the details of such an under- 
taking, that much delay attended the oper- 
ations of those charged with its active 
responsibilities. Gradually, after the en- 
countering of many formidable obstacles, 
the preliminary matter of a suitable build- 
ing was decided ; and then, with instinct- 
ive American speed, the speculation in 
Crystal Palace stock at once commenced, 
and was one of the most active " fancies," 
the gains of forty and fifty per cent., as 
was in some cases experienced, being quite 
stimulating. The stock rose, at one time, 
to seventy or eighty per cent, above par. 
One gentleman, who had watched the 
building closely as it advanced in the 
course of construction, observed one day 
something which he thought might injure 
the safety of the edifice. It was only a 



fancy of his ; but, being impressed with 
it, he walked quietly into Wall street, and, 
selling out, pocketed a gain of fifteen thou- 
sand dollars. The distribution of the stock 
into so many hands, and the widely 
extended commercial interests involved, 
gained for the enterprise much of a 
national character. The public support 
given by the government to its operations, 
at home and abroad, helj)ed also to dignify 
it, and to take away the invidious rejjuta- 
tion which would have attached to a proj- 
ect having no higher aim than mere 
private gain. Following uji this system 
of encouragement, the affair obtained the 
confidence iind co-operation of all classes, 
and its consummation was looked forward 
to as one of the marked events in Ameri- 
can history. 

On the attention of foreign governments 
being called to the exhibition, His Sub- 
lime Highness, the Sultan of Turkey, was 
one of the first to respond to the appeal, 
by ordering a steam-frigate to be prejjared 
for the recejition and transmission of those 
sjilendid fabrics of the Ottoman empire — 
richly carved cabinet constructions, and 
carpets of wonderful elaboration — so much 
admired the world over. The senate of the 
United States, at once appropriated twenty 
thousand dollars, for the purpose of receiv- 
ing, in a becoming manner of appreciation, 
the frigate thus so generously dispatched 
by his oriental majesty. England sent 
commissioners, and Queen Victoria, the 
Emperor Napoleon, and other sovereigns, 
vied with each other in their personal con- 
tributions and in those from their resjiect- 
ive countries. 

Great pains were taken to obtain such a 
plan for the building as would present the 
highest architectural merit, and be as per- 
fectl}' adapted as possible to the great object 
in view. At that time, the matter of iron 
construction on a large scale was almost 
entirely new in the United States, there 
being no edifice wholly of that material to 
be found in the country, and, therefore, 
the want of experience on the part of both 
architects and engineers, presented serious 
obstacles. Many ingenious plans, how- 



WORLD'S FAIR IN NEW YORK. 



423 



ever, were offered, from the abridged 
account of wbicli, as well as of tlie build- 
ing itself, prepared by Mr. D. A. Wells, 
it appears that Sir Joseph Paxton, the 
architect of the LDndou structure, fur- 
nished one of singular beaut}-, but the 
peculiar shape of the ground to be occu- 
pied rendered it imp )ssible to use it. Mr. 
A. J. Downing offen d another, of striking 
originality, but this was also excluded by 
the peremptory conditions imposed by the 
city, namely, that the building should be 
exclusively of iron and glass. Another 
plan, by Mr. Eidlitz, contemplated a sus- 
pension roof, so as to obviate the difficult}- 
of spanning great widths by arches. Mr. 
Bogardus submitted a design for a circular 
building, consisting of successive colon- 




Cj:^^< 



nades, placed one over the other, somewhat 
resembling the coliseum at Rome, and 
involving a new and ingenious method of 
joining. A plan was also proposed, by 
Mr. J. W. Adams, consisting of a great 
octagonal vault or dome, supported by ribs 
made of fasces or clusters of gas-pipe. 
The presentation of so many plans, each 
of a different character, and some of them 
of great beauty and originality, made the 
task of selection ver}- difficult. Finally, 
after much consultation, the plan accepted 
was that of I\Iessrs. Carstensen and Gilde- 
meister, of New York, the latter gentle- 
man being recently from Copenhagen, 
■where he was well-known as the designer 
of some of the principal public works in 



that city. After the final adoption of a 
plan, which was in August, 1852, no time 
was lost in putting the work under way. 
The piece of ground for the erection of the 
building, in Reservoir Square, granted by 
the city, was somewhat unfavorable for 
architectural purposes ; but in other re- 
spects it was quite favorable, and the 
structure, when completed, was a magnifi- 
cent spectacle, its main features being as 
follows : 

With the exception of the floor, the 
whole of this splendid palace was con- 
structed of iron and glass. The general 
idea of the edifice was a Greek cross, sur- 
mounted by a dome at the intersection, 
each diameter of the cross being three 
hundred and sixtj'-five feet and five inches 
long. There were three similar entrances, 
each forty-seven feet wide, and approached 
by flights of steps. Over each front was 
a large semi-circular fan-light, forty-one 
feet wide and twenty-one feet high, an- 
swering to the arch of the nave. Each 
arm of the cross was on the ground plan 
one hundred and fortj'-nine feet broad. 
This was divided into a central nave and 
two aisles, on each side, the nave forty-one, 
and each aisle fiftj--four feet wide. The 
central portion, or nave, was carried up to 
the height of sixtj'-seven feet, and the 
semi-circular arch which spanned it was 
forty-one feet broad. There were thus, in 
effect, two arched naves crossing each 
other at right angles, forty-one feet broad, 
sixtj^-seven feet high to the crown of the 
arch, and three hundred and sixty-five feet 
long ; and, on each side of these naves, an 
aisle fifty-four feet broad and forty-five 
feet high. The exterior of the ridgeway 
of the nave was seventy-one feet. Each 
aisle was covered by a gallery of its own 
width, and twenty-four feet from the floor. 
The central dome was one hundred feet in 
diameter, sixty-eight feet in=--de from the 
floor to the spring of the ar„h, one hun- 
dred and eighteen feet to the crown, and, 
on the outside, with the lantern, one hun- 
dred and forty-nine feet. The exterior 
angles of the building were ingeniously 
tilled up with a triangular lean-to, twenty- 



424 



WORLD'S FAIR IN NEW YORK. 



four feet high, which gave the ground plan 
an octagonal shape, each side or face being 
one hundred and forty-nine feet wide. At 
each angle was an octagonal tower, eight 
feet in diameter and seventy-five feet 
high. 

Ten large, and eight winding staircases, 
connected the principal floor with the gal- 
lery, which opened on the three balconies 
situated over the entrance halls, affording 
ample space for flower decorations, statues, 
vases, etc. The building contained, on the 
ground floor, one hundred and eleven 
thousand square feet of space, and in its 
galleries, of fifty-four feet width, sixty-two 
thousand square feet more, making a total 
area of one hundred and seventy-three 
thousand square feet, for the purposes of 
exhibition ; being a total, within an incon- 
siderable fraction, of four acres. 

There were on the ground floor of this 
wonderful structure, one hundred and 
ninety octagonal cast-iron columns, twenty- 
one feet above the floor, and eight inches 
diameter, cast hollow, of different thick- 
nesses, from half an inch to one inch. 
These columns received the cast-iron gird- 
ers, the latter being twenty-six feet long 
and three feet high, and served to sustain 
the galleries and the wrought-iron con- 
struction of the roof, as well as to brace 
the whole structure in every direction. 
The girders, as well as the second-story 
columns, were fastened to the columns in 
the first story, by connecting pieces of the 
same octagonal shape as the columns, three 
feet four inches high. The number of 
lower floor girders was two hundred and 
fifty-two, besides twelve wrought - iron 
girders of the same height, and forty-one 
feet span over a part of the nave. The 
second story contained one hundred and 
forty-eight columns, of the same shape as 
those below, and seventeen feet seven 
inches high. These received another tier 
of girders, numbering one hundred and 
sixty, for the support of the roofs of the 
aisles. 

The dome, noble and beautiful in its 
proportions, constituted the chief architect- 
ural feature of the building. Its diame- 



ter, one hundred feet, and its height — 
nearly seventy feet to the springing line, 
and one hundred and twenty-three to the 
crown of the arch — made it the largest, 
and, with one or two exceptions, the only 
scientifically constructed dome in the 
United States ; a dome of oriental charac- 
teristics, in its light and graceful beauty, 
— seemingly borne in upon a zephyr, and 
capable of being lifted away by a breath, 
— floating over the whole structure, pure 
and fascinating, like an aerial grace. 

Twenty -four columns supported the 
dome, the columns rising to the second 
story, and to a height of sixty-two feet 
above the principal floor. The sj'stem of 
wrought-iron trusses which connected them 
together, and was supported by them, 
formed two eccentric polygons, each of 
sixteen sides; these received a cast-iron 
bed-plate, to which the cast-iron shoes for 
the ribs of the dome were bolted, the latter 
being constructed of two curves of double 
angle-iron, securely connected together by 
trellis-work, the requisite steadiness being 
secured by tie-rods, which braced them 
both vertically and horizontally. At the 
top, the ribs were bolted to a horizontal 
ring of wrought and cast iron, having a 
diameter of twenty feet in clear, and sur- 
mounted by the lantern. As in the other 
roofs of the building, the dome was cased 
with matched deal and tin sheathing, light 
being communicated to the interior 
through the lantern, and also in part from 
the sides, pierced for thirty-two orna- 
mental windows, these being glazed with 
stained glass one-eighth of an inch thick, 
and representing the arms of the Union 
and of its several States, — a feature which 
formed no inconsiderable part of the inte- 
rior decoration, and won the admiration of 
every beholder, foreign as well as Ameri- 
can. 

The enamel, with which the whole of the 
glass used in the structure was covered, 
was laid upon the glass with a brush, and, 
after drying, subjected to the intense heat 
of a kiln, by which the coating became vit- 
rified, and as durable as the glass itself ; 
the effect produced being similar to that 



WORLD'S FAIR IN NEW YORK. 



425 



of ground glass, translucent but not trans- | 
parent, the sun's rays, diffused by passing 
through it, yielding an agreeable light, — 
deprived of that intensity of heat and 
glare which is so peculiar to them in this 
climate. In the absence of a similar pre- 




caution in the London crystal palace, 
whose roofs, as well as walls, were inclosed 
with transparent glass, it was found nec- 
essary to cover the interior of the building 
with canvas, to produce the required 
shade. The external walls of the New 



York building were of cast-iron framing 
and panel-work, into which were inserted 
the sashes of the windows and the louvers 
for ventilation. 

But the i-apid and unexpected increase 
of applications for space by exhibitors, led 
to the erection of a large addition to the 
structure thus described. It consisted 
of two parts, of one and two stories re- 
spectivelj', and occupied the entire 
ground between the main building and 
the reservoir ; its length, four hundred 
and fifty-one feet, and its extreme width 
seventy-five feet. It was designed for 
the reception of machinerj' in motion, 
the cabinets of mining and mineralogj', 
and the refreshment rooms, with their 
necessary offices. The second storj', 
nearly four hundred and fiftj' feet long 
and twenty-one wide, and extending the 
whole length, was entirely devoted to 
the exhibition of pictures and statuary. 
In the work of decorating the build- 
ing, the leading idea was to bring out to 
advantage the beautiful architectural 
character of the edifice itself — to decor- 
ate construction, rather than to con- 
struct decoration. The result proved 
surprisingly attractive. The colors em- 
plo3'ed on the exterior were mixed in 
oil, the base being white lead. The 
outside presented the appearance of a 
building of a light-colored bronze, of 
which all features purely ornamental 
were of gold. The inside had a prevail- 
ing tone of buff, or rich cream color, 
which was given to all the cast-iron 
constructive work. This color was re- 
lieved by a moderate and judicious use 
of the three positive colors, red, blue, 
and yellow, in their several tints of ver- 
milion, garnet, sky-blue, and orange — 
certain parts of the ornamental work 
being gilt — to accord with the arrange- 
ment of colors employed in the decora^ 
tion of the ceilings. The only exceptions 
to the use of oil colors were the ceiling of 
the lean-to and the dome, these being exe- 
cuted on canvas. 

The effect of the interior of the dome 
was particularly splendid. The rays from 



426 



WORLD'S FAIR IN NEW YORK. 



a golden sun, at the center, descended 
between the latticed ribs, and arabesques 
of white and blue, relieved by stars, sur- 
rounded the openings, the effect of ths 
whole being very fine. This splendid 
appearance by day was even excelled by the 
gorgeous illumination of the structure at 
night, produced by countless gas-burners. 

In the construction of this vast and 
splendid palace of industrj', the whole 
quantity of iron emploj'ed amounted to 
one thousand eight hundred tons, of which 
three hundred tons were -wrought and 
fifteen liundred tons cast iron ; the quan- 
tity of glass used, fifteen thousand panes, 
or fifty-five thousand square feet ; and the 
quantity of wood amounted to seven hun- 
dred and fifty thousand feet, board meas- 
ure. The general mode of erection by 
base pieces, columns, connecting jiiecos 
and girders, was the same with that of the 
great London palace ; but the construction 
of the arched nave, and of the dome, was of 
course entirely peculiar, and the general 
effect of the structure completely different. 
The London building was regarded as defi- 
cient in architectural effect. The form of 
the New York edifice furnished scope for 
a pleasing variety of embellishments, by 
which all monotony was avoided. 

Exclusive of the naves, the total amount 
of space on the floor, occupied by different 
countries for exhibition, was about one 
hundred and fiftj'-two thousand square feet, 
of which a little more than ninety-four 
thousand was on the ground floor. The 
total amount of space occupied by foreign 
exhibitors was nearly one hundred thou- 
sand square feet ; and the total number of 
this class of exhibitors was nearly three 
thousand. In the United States depart- 
ment, the number of exhibitors was not 
far from two thousand, the largest propor- 
tion of whom were included under the fol- 
lowing classes: mineralogy, metallurgy, 
and mining; machinery and tools; agri- 
cultural implements ; hardware ; and the 
fine ans 

The details of the exhibition, with the 
collecting and arranging of the various 
departments, was intrusted to the follow- 



ing gentlemen: General superintendents. 
Captains Dupont and Davis ; arrangement 
of sjiace and classification, Samuel "Web- 
ber ; department of mineralogy and chem- 
istry, Professor B. Silliman, Jr. ; director 
of machinery, J. E. Holmes ; director of 
agricvdtural imj:)lements, B. P. Johnson ; 
director of sculpture, Felix Piatti ; director 
of textile fabrics, Edward Vincent ; — these 
having the co-operation of a large corps of 
assistants, experienced in the various spe- 
cialties named. 

It was the intention of the officers of 
the association, that the building should 
be finished and the exhibition opened to 
the public by the first day of May, 1853. 
But many unlooked-for delays intervened, 
and the opening was necessarily deferred 
until the fourteenth of Jul}', on which day 
the palace was formally inaugurated with 
approjjriate services. On a platform were 
assembled the officers of the association, 
and many of the distinguished men of 
Europe and America, including His Excel- 
lency, Hon. Franklin Pierce, president of 
the United States, and members of his cab- 
inet. The devotional exercises, on open- 
ing the exhibition, were led by Bishop 
Wainwright ; and then a choral, written 
for the occasion, and commencing with the 
line, " Here, where all climes their offer- 
ings send," was sung to the tune of Old 
Hundred. Mr. Sedgwick, the president 
of the association, then pronounced an 
address, stating the objects and prospects 
of the exhibition, and was followed by the 
president of the United States, in a brief 
and appropriate congratulatory speech, in 
which he bespoke for the great national 
enterprise the cordial patronage of all 
classes and sections, and characterized it 
as an event fitly reflecting the progress, 
power, and glory of the republic. After 
this, the organ poured through tlie aisles 
the sublime music of Handel's " Hallelu- 
jah Chorus,"— and the palace of glass, with 
its myriad forms of wonder and beauty, 
and its mighty lesson of civilization, was a 
compIpte<l fact. The tide of humanity 
that flowed into the pnlace, from day to 
day, was constant and prodigioua. 



WORLD'S FAIR IN NEW YORK. 



427 



Such a magnificent display of the prod- 
ucts of human ingenuity and skill had 
never before been witnessed in the west- 
ern world. Not only did America present 
its choicest elaborations of industry, in 
almost infinite variety, but climes and 
countries to the furthermost quarters of 
the globe were there represented in count- 
less contributions of the useful and the 
beautiful. England and France made 
vast and superb offerings to the great 
transatlantic bazaar, and their example 
was followed by the other continental 
nations. Scandinavia, Norwa}-, Sweden, 
and the German Zollverein, poured forth 
the selectest contents of their mines, 
manufactories, workshops, and studios. 
Among the former were iron ore, steel, 
wrought iron for gun-barrels, stearin cau- 
dles, nickel, cobalt, copper, geological speci- 
mens, snow-shoes, reindeer antlers, a musi- 
cal instrument called the psalmodicon, 
wood carvings by Norwegian peasants, 
and for which they are celebrated. From 
the Zollverein States, there was an attract- 
ive variety of objects, the most interesting 
of which were the works of art, principally 
paintings. The first artists of modern 
Germany contributed to this part of the 
collection, and in such quantity as far sur- 
passed general expectation. The names 
of eminence which appeared in this con- 
nection, were those of Huebner, Achen- 
bach, Muller, Elsasser, Openheimer, and 
from Vienna, Waldmuller and Swobada. 

Conspicuous also among the foreign 
attractions, was the celebrated picture con- 
tributed by Queen Victoria, representing 
the duke of Wellington presenting a birth- 
day gift to the infant Prince Arthur, the 
voungest member of the royal family. 
This picture was painted by Winterhalter, 
at the queen's express desire ; as a work of 
art alone it secured great attention, and 
was deservedly extolled by all lovers of 
beauty and perfection. But the fact of its 
being the queen's most valued and pet 
picture, and forwarded, in her own name, 
as a tribute of recognition to America's 
great exhibition, heightened the interest 
with which it was viewed. 



The splendid colossal group of Christ 
and his apostles, by Thorwaldsen — one of 
the masterpieces of sculpture — was the 
theme of much praise, drawing crowds of 
admirers daily. The same also may be 
said of that matchless piece of art, Kiss's 
'• Amazon," a coj^y from the original work 
in bronze, erected near the museum in 
Berlin. Next to the fine equestrian statue 
of Washington, this of the Amazon was 
considered the boldest and most striking 
piece of statuary exhibited. But some of 
the most beautiful contributions, in the 
department of fine arts, were to be found 
among those which, in point of size, were 
comparatively diminutive. The veiled 
statues, for example, seemed almost like 
angelic creations. The cast-iron statuettes 
from the royal iron foundry at Vienna, 
were also beautiful ; each stood on an ara- 
besque pedestal, and was about twelve 
inches in height, of a dead black color, 
nearlj' resembling ebony, and of the most 
exquisite quality of casting. 

More grand and impressive than any- 
thing else in the Italian department, was 
the statue of Columbus, in the purest 
marble, his left hand resting upon a ter- 
restrial globe, to which the right pointed. 
This superb statue was of life size, and 
from the chisel of Del Medico, of Carrari. 
An admirable little group, which riveted 
the attention of every observer, was the 
Cage of Cupids, all in marble, — a bevy of 
the little creatures, represented as tired of 
their confinement and striving to escape ; 
this happy and unique conception was 
executed in a style of workmanship that 
may well be termed marvelous. 

Most amusing, to old and young, was 
the plastic model of Gulliver in Lilliput, 
made by A. Fleischmann, in Sonneberg, 
Saxony. From the opening to the close 
of the exhibition, there was a constant 
crowd of visitors around this admirably 
executed work. Quite different in char- 
acter and in the kind of interest which it 
ins]iired, was the collection of ancient 
armor sent by the English government 
from the tower of London, and which com- 
prised a helmet worn in Henry the 



428 



WORLD'S FAIR IN NEW YORK. 



Eighth's time, or about the year 1520; an 
ancient shield of the time of King Edward 
IV., in 1547 ; a helmet of the time of 
Queen Elizabeth, about 1560, and a pike- 
man's lance, eighteen feet long, of the 
same period ; a heavy breast-plate, one- 
quarter of an inch thick, bearing date 
1685; also, some very interesting speci- 
mens of ancient muskets, one of which, a 
flint lock with a plug bayonet, was used 
during the reign of King James the Sec- 
ond, in 1686. 

From France came the rarest and most 
delicate tapestries and porcelains, includ- 
ing some of the celebrated Gobelin carpets, 
sent expressly by the French government. 
These carpets are remarkable for smooth- 
ness, softness, and fineness of texture, as 
well as for their strength and evenness, 
excelling even the Persian in these re- 
spects, and the colors and designs are per- 
fect. Some of these carpets require from 
five to ten years for their completion, and 
at a cost of ten thousand to thirty thou- 
sand dollars. None are sold, being exclu- 
sively of government manufacture and 
use. The largest ever made was more 
than one thousand three hundred feet. 
Among other exquisite pieces sent to the 
exhibition, was the "Subject taken from 
the Chase and Still Life," and pronounced 
to excel in the softness, delicacy, and bril- 
liancy, with which all the minute traits of 
both animal and vegetable life are rendered 
in this wonderful species of manufacture. 

But no details possible within the com- 
pass of a few pages merely, would do jus- 
tice to the vast and varied contents of this 



World's Fair, with its four acres of richly 
teeming surface, from nearly five thousand 
contributors ; nor, indeed, has any attempt 
been here made to describe those more 
practical and extensive features of the 
exhibition, — those grand industries, covers 
ing so wide and important a range in the 
elements and activities of modern civiliza- 
tion, — which constituted the chief scope 
and lesson of the undertaking. Of this 
numerous class are those ingenious and 
useful inventions pertaining to the various 
processes of agriculture, mines and their 
products ; machinery for constructive, mo- 
tive, and manufacturing purposes; etc., etc. 
For several months, the palace was open 
to the public, according to its original 
plan, and subsequently it was decided to 
make the building and its attractions per- 
manent, the occasion being celebrated by 
public ceremonies appropriate to the event. 
Among the speakers was Elihu Burritt, 
who, in the course of one of the most bril- 
liant of speeches, said: "Worthy of the 
grandest circumstances which could be 
thrown around a human assembly, worthy 
of this occasion and a hundred like this, is 
that beautiful idea — the Coronation of 
Labor. Not American labor, not Brit- 
ish labor, not French labor, not the labor 
of the New World or the Old, but the 
labor of mankind as one undivided broth- 
erhood — Labor, as the oldest, the noblest, 
prerogative of duty and humanity." Most 
unfortunately, this beautiful palace, so 
wonderful in its construction, and such an 
ornament to the chief city of America, was 
totally destroyed by fire, in October, 1858. 



LOSS 



LIII. 
OF THE SPLENDID COLLINS STEAMSHIP ARCTIC, 



OF NEW YORK, BY COLLISION WITH THE IRON 
STEAMER VESTA.— 1854. 



Occurrence of tlie Disaster in Mid-Ocean, at Noomlay, in a Pense Fog.— Sinking of the Noble Ship 
Stern Foremust. — Hundreds of Souls Engulfed in a Watery Grave. — Experiences Crowded into That 
Awful Hour.— The Wail of Agouy and Despair from the Fated Throng.— Her Non-Arrival, Painfu] 
Suspense.— The Dreadful News at Last.— Shock to the Public Mind.— Strong Ruild of the Arctic- 
Prestige of the Collins Line.— A Casualty Undreamed Of.— Surging Crowd in Wall Street.— Names 
of Lost and Saved Read.— Hope, Joy, Grief, Anguish.— The Sad Tale on all Lips.— Captain Luce in 
the Hour of Woe.— Manliness of His First Order.— Ship Deserted by the Crew.—" Every Man for 
Himself."— A Raft Constructed, but in Vain.— Courage of the Women.— Not One of Their Sex 
Saved.— Instances of Cool Bravery.— An Engineer's Heroic Fidelity.— £30,000 for a Chance in a 
Boat.— Pleasure Tourists on Board.— All of Mr. CoUins's Family Lost. 



"The fiiteoflheshipBhaIlbeinine."-CiPT»IN LccE, CoMMANDSE OF THE ABCTIO 




. IeAVING Liverpool, England, on the twentieth of September, 1854, 
the magnifii^^ut steamer Arctic, of the Collins line, plying between that city and New 
York, was, on the seventh day out, at noon, while running in a fog, totally engulfed, 



430 



LOSS OF THE STEAMSHIP ARCTIC. 



with hundreds of souls, millions of treas- 
ure, and a heavy mail of incalculable value, 
in consequence of collision with the French 
iron screw-steamer Vesta. The Arctic 
was commanded by Captain Luce ; the 
Vesta, by Captain Duchesne. 

For many a long day after the time 
when this superb vessel was due at New 
York, the public mind was in agonizing 
suspense as to her fate. From the well- 
known immense strength and complete 
equipment of the Arctic, this was the only 
sort of casualty likely to be serious to her, 
and this does not appear to have been 
anticipated by even the most sagacious 
sea-faring man. In every respect, the 
success of the Collins line reflected the 
highest honor upon American nautical 
enterprise and skill. 

The news of this lamentable catastrophe 
carried deep and heart-rending sorrow to 
the homes of thousands both in this coun- 
try and in Europe. On the news reaching 
New York, October 14th, that city as- 
sumed the appearance of one great funeral. 
The flags waved at half-mast throughout 
the metropolis, upon all the public build- 
ings and hotels, as also upon the shi]iping 
in the harbor. The office of Mr. E. K. 
Collins, the founder and proprietor of this 
splendid line of steamships, was crowded 
with anxious visitors from early in the 
morning until the place was closed in the 
afternoon. All who wished to hear of rel- 
atives or friends called there, as the most 
likely place to learn the fate of those for 
whom they hoped even against hope. It 
was a sad gathering of grief-stricken citi- 
zens, among whom were fathers, brothers, 
and sons, tremulously waiting for intelli- 
gence which would either give the death- 
blow to all hope itself, or give back again 
all the buoyancy of life by the promised 
restoration of the lost. Often during the 
day was heard the inquiry put to the 
attendants in the counting-room of Mr. 
Collins, 'Have you any news of my 
brother?' 'Do you think my son is 
safe ? ' ' Have you seen any of the pas- 
sengers who could probably tell me of the 
affair, and give me intelligence of my 



father ? ' Many, too, with tears in theii." 
eyes, grasped the hands of friends, and 
tlie questions were exchanged, ' Who of 
your friends were on board ? ' and ' Who 
of yours ? ' It seemed as if everj'body had 
either relations or acquaintances on board 
the sad-fated vessel. As each report came 
in of the passengers heard from as safe, it 
was a picture full of interest to see the 
eagerness with which all turned their ears 
to hear the report read, and the faces 
ligliten up with gladness as the wished-for 
name fell from the lips of the reader. 

Some, upon receiving information of a 
rescue of the supposed lost, were at once 
engaged in receiving the congratulations 
of those about them ; others turned around 
to offer condolence and mingle sympathy 
with the rest, for whom had come no 
happj' tidings ; and others, again, rushed 
in haste from the building to circulate the 
report among friends outside, or to convey 
it to mourning families at home. Wher- 
ever this intelligence came, it was like the 
news of a resurrection from the dead. 
Notwithstanding in all hope flickered 
dimly, yet the catastrophe was so appall- 
ing, and the chances of a rescue so few, 
that each was filled with the greatest fear, 
and all were alike prepared for the worst, 
though continually hoping for the best. 

Not only in the office of the Ocean Steam 
Company, but in all places, were the same 
evidences apparent, that some heavy blow 
had fallen upon the heart, and, crushing 
out what was happy and peaceful, had 
placed the burden of sorrow there. At all 
frequented corners, along the streets, at 
store doors, in banking-houses, groups 
were assembled, each with the other can- 
vassing the chances of safety for some 
friend, or recapitulating the calamitous 
story of the shipwreck. All business in 
W^all street was for a time stopped; and 
merchants and bankers, forgetting the rise 
of stocks and the fluctuations of trade, by 
'one touch of nature' were brought together 
as participants in the general grief. The 
Exchange was crowded during the day, but 
the loss of the Arctic was the sole en- 
grossing topic. 



LOSS OF THE STEAMSHIP ARCTIC. 



431 



At the time of the collision, Captain 
Luce was below, working out the position 
of the steamer. He immediately ran on 
deck and saw the iron steamer under the 
starboard bow, and passing astern, grazing 
and tearing the guards in her progress. 
The bows of the strange vessel seemed to 
be literally cut or crushed off for ten feet, 
and seeing that she must probably sink in 
ten minutes. Captain Luce took a glance 
at his own ship, and believing her to be 
comparatively uninjured, the boats were 
cleared and the first officer and six men 
left with a boat to board the stranger and 
ascertain the extent of her damage. The 
engineers were immediately instructed to 
put on the steam pumps, and the four deck 
pumps were worked by the passengers and 
crew. The ship was at once headed for 
the land, and several ineffectual attempts 
were made to stop the leak by getting sails 
over the bows. Finding that the leak was 
gaining very fast, notwithstanding the 
very powerful efforts made to keep the 
ship free, Captain Luce resolved to get the 
boats ready, and have as many ladies and 
children in them as possible. 

No sooner, however, had an attempt 
been made to do this, than the firemen and 
others rushed into the boats in spite of all 
opposition. Seeing this state of things, 
the captain ordered the boats astern to be 
kept in readiness until order could be 
restored, when, to his dismay, he saw 
them cut the rope in the bow, and soon 
disappear astern in the fog. Another 
boat was broken down by persons rushing 
in at the davits, and many were precipi- 
tated into the sea and drowned. This 
occurred while the captain had been en- 
gaged in getting the starboard guard-boat 
ready. He had placed the second officer 
in charge, when the same scene was 
enacted as with the first boat. He then 
gave orders to the second officer to let go 
and tow after the ship, keeping near the 
stern, to be ready to take the womei and 
children as soon as the fires were out and 
the engine should stop. The quarter-boat 
was found broken down, but hanging by 
one tackle; a rush was made for her also, 



some fifteen getting m, and, cutting the 
tackle, were soon out of sight. Not a sea- 
man was now left on board, nor a carpen- 
ter, — there were no tools to assist in build- 
ing a raft as the only hope, — and the only 
officer left was Mr. Dorian, the third m.ate, 
who worked nobly for the success of all. 

To form a raft, it became necessar3' to 
get the only remaining boat — a life-boat — 
into the water. This being accomplished, 
Mr. Dorian, the chief officer of the boat, 
taking care to keep the oars on board the 
steamer to prevent those in the boat from 
leaving the ship, proceeded to work, still 
hoping to be able to get the women and 
children on board his boat at last. They 
had made considerable progress in collect- 
ing spars, when the alarm was given that 
the ship was sinking, and the boat was 
shoved off without oars or anj-thing to 
hold themselves. 

In an instant after, at about a quarter- 
past five, P. M., the ship went down, car- 
vying every sonl on hoard with her. 

Captain Luce soon found himself on the 
surface, after a brief struggle, with his 
fragile child in his arms; then again 
found himself impelled downward to a 
great depth, and, before reaching the sur- 
face a second time, had nearly perished, 
losing the hold of his child as he struggled 
upwards. On thus getting upon the sur- 
face of the water, once more, the most 
awful and heart-rending scene presented 
itself — over two hundred men, women, and 
children were struggling together, amid 
pieces of the wreck, calling upon each 
other for help, and imploring God to assist 
them ! Amid this struggling mass oi 
human beings, he discovered his child, anc. 
was in the act of trying to save him, wher 
a portion of the paddle-box came rushing; 
up edgewards, just grazing the captain'a 
head and falling with its whole weight 
upon the head of the helpless child. Cap- 
tain Luce then succeeded in getting on the 
top of the paddle-box in company with 
eleven others ; one, however, soon left for 
another piece, and others remained until 
relieved by death. Those who were left, 
stood in water up to their knees, the sea 



432 



LOSS OF THE STEAMSHIP ARCTIC. 



trequently breaking over tliem ; and the 
suffering party were soon reduced by death 
to Captain Luce and one other, who, after 
an exposure of forty-six hours, were rescued 
by the ship Cambria, Captain Russell, 
bound to Quebec. 

Mr. Dorian, the energetic and faithful 
officer named above, asserted, in his ac- 
count of the disaster, that if all the officers 
and men had remained by the ship, all, or 
nearly all, of the passengers, would have 
been saved ; that, with the masts, spars, 
and the cutting off of the hurricane deck, 
a raft could have been formed capable of 
carrying the whole of them. He further 
states that among the passengers on board 
the Arctic he never saw men more coolly 
courageous, and that their quiet resigna- 
tion and implicit confidence in the captain 
and officers of the ship were such as it was 
impossible to surpass. A particular illus- 
tration of this, was the fidelity exhibited 
by a young gentleman named Holland, 
of Washington, who was on board the 
steamer for the purpose of gaining instruc- 
tion in engineering. He had been deputed 
by the captain to fire the signal gun — 
when all others had fled, — and, amid the 
melancholy wail, he pursued his duty. 
When all hope had fled, and the vessel 
was nearly level with the sea, Holland was 
seen busy with the gun. His last shot 
boomed out as the Arctic sank, and be 
went down with her — persevering in the 
strict performance of his duty. 

In the construction of the raft, the two 
foreyard arms were cut down and lashed 
together, making the raft about forty feet 
long and three or four feet wide. On 
being finished, it was launched on the lar- 
board side, and in a few minutes after 
there were about seventy persons clinging 
to it, four of whom were women. Several 
other rafts were made, but none of them 
were so large as this. Doors, barrels, and, 
in fact, everything that floated, came into 
use. On some of these there were two 
and three, but the largest could not sup- 
port more than four or five. 

How a man feels during the process of 
drowning may be judged by the statement 



of Mr. McCabe, a passenger, who says: 
I remained on the vessel until she sank, 
when I went down with her. I had been 
emploj^ed a few minutes before with two 
others, one of whom was called 'Tom the 
storekeeper,' in lashing some casks to- 
gether, when I was driven away by the 
water, which rushed in with fearful impet- 
uositj'. Jumping upon the paddle-box, I 
sprang on the saloon deck, and in an 
instant was engulfed in the surging 
waters, which soon closed over our heads. 
Down, doiun we sank, with our noble vessel, 
iiito the bosom of the ocean, and the terri- 
ble thought took possession of my mind 
that I was drowning. I retained my con- 
sciousness, however, all the time I was 
under the water, and it was with a feeling 
of intense joy that I found, after about 
half a minute, that I was rapidly rising 
towards the surface. It was all darkness 
before, but now I could see a dim light 
above me, and in a few seconds I was on 
the top of the water, struggling for life. 
Being a good swimmer, and having, be- 
sides, the support of a life-preserver, I suc- 
ceeded in reaching a door, which was float- 
ing a few feet from where I rose. I looked 
around me, but there was no trace of the 
vessel except a few loose timbers and the 
rafts which were floating about, some with 
and others without passengers. Finding 
I could not retain my hold of the door with 
safety, I left it and swam to a barrel 
which lay a few feet from me, and from 
this again I swam to the large raft, to 
which some seventy persons were clinging. 
The sea, though not strong, was rough, and 
the waves, as they dashed remorselessly 
over the raft, washed away a portion of its 
living freight. It was an awful scene — a 
multitude of human beings, in the midst of 
the ocean, without the slightest hope of 
assistance, while every minute one by one 
was dropping into a watery grave, from 
sheer exhaustion. Those who had life- 
preservers did not sink, but floated with 
their ghastly faces upwards, reminding 
those who still remained alive, of the fate 
that awaited them. Of those who dropped 
awaj', some floated off and were gnawed 



LOSS OF THE STEAMSHIP ARCTIC. 



433 



and eaten by fishes, wliile others were 
washed under the raft, where their faces 
could be seen through tlie openings, as 
they were swayed to and fro bj^ the waves. 
The raft at one time was so crowded that 
many had to hold on by one hand. Very 
few words were spoken by any, and the 
only sound to be heard was the splash of 
the waters or the heavy breathing of the 
poor sufferers, as they tried to recover 
their breath, after a wave had passed over 
them. Nearly all were submerged to their 
armpits, while a few could with great dif- 
ficulty keep their heads above the surface. 
The women were the first to go ; they 



his pocket, but finding this impossible, on 
account of being in so cramped a position, 
placed it between his teeth until overtaken 
by a tremendous wave, when he lost his 
hold upon it and it was washed away. 
Another, who had on an oiled silk coat, 
called on McCabe, for heaven's sake, to 
render assistance, as his strength was rap- 
idly failing, and he must fall off if not 
relieved. As he was about four or five 
feet distant, it was difficult to reach him, 
but after considerable exertions this was 
done, McCabe helping him by the use of a 
knee, until, becoming himself quite faint, 
the hapless man was, by necessity, left to 




LUSS OF THE COLLLNS STEAMSHIP ASCIIC, 

were unable to stand the exposure more 
than three or four hours. They all fell off 
the raft without a word, except one poor 
girl, who cried out in intense agony, " Oh, 
my -poor mother and sisters ! " 

At the expiration of some eighteen 
hours, there were not more than three or 
iour persons remaining upon it, including 
McCabe. One of these gave to the latter 
what appeared to be a small map, but 
which the giver was understood to say was 
a sort of title-deed to his property. In a 
few moments after thus transferring it, 
he, too, unloosed his hold, and was added 
to the number that floated about the raft. 
McCabe endeavored to get the paper into 
28 



BY COLLISION AT NOONDAY, IN MID-OCEAN. 

his fate. Poor fellow, he promised if he 
ever got to New York alive, he would 
reward his deliverer well. He clung with 
terrible tenacity to life, but he, too, 
dropped off in his turn. 

McCabe was now the only one left upon 
the raft — not a solitary person being alive, 
of all the seventy who, within a few hours, 
were his companions. The night of the 
second day was about closing on him, and 
during the whole time he had been in the 
water, he had not eaten a particle of any- 
thing nor drank a drop. His strength 
was beginning to give way, and his sight 
had become so dim as to render objects 
invisible a few feet off — even the ghastly 



434 



LOSS OF THE STEAMSHIP ARCTIC. 



i';u-es of the dead that looked u^j from 
under the raft were hardly discernible. 
Determined to make one more effort for 
life, he raised himself on his knees upon 
the raft, and through the dusk of evening 
saw, or tliought he saw, a vessel. At this, 
his strength revived, and in a few mo- 
ments was heard the voice of some one 
approaching in a boat. And so it proved. 
After twenty-six hours of exposure, he was 
rescued from a watery grave, by a boat 
manned by Mr. Dorian, some sailors, and 
Captain Grann, one of the Arctic pas- 
sengers. 

A lucid description of the whole scene, 
as given by Captain Grann, who was below 
at the time of the collision, states ihat 
upon going on deck, the Vesta was on the 
starboard quarter of the Arctic, about half 
a cable's length off, with her starboard 
bow completely stove, from stem to fore- 
rigging, to the water's edge. The Vesta 
lowered a boat, which got under the star- 
board wheel of the Arctic, and was 
swamped. When I came on deck (contin- 
ues Captain Grann,) they were lowering 
away the boats. Both anchors were on 
the starboard side of the deck, and 1 went 
aft and asked Captain Luce if I should 
remove the anchors to the port side, as all 
of the shijj's officers were aft, lowering 
away the boats and rigging pumps. He 
gave orders so to do, and, with the assist- 
ance of some passengers and a few of the 
crew, I carried the same into execution. I 
then went on the topgallant forecastle and 
examined into the state of her bows. 
Could see no evidences of her being stove, 
excepting some bad chafes, the cakum 
hanging out, and a piece of the iron boat 
protruding from the planks. As soon as 
I discovered this, I reported it to Captain 
Luce, which was the first known of the 
Arctic having received serious damage. 
He then requested me to go below and 
ascertain, if possible, where the leak was. 
Went below and broke cargo — could hear 
water rushing in. The carpenter was 
ordered below between decks to stop the 
leak, and commenced cutting away the 
ceiling. I went to work with crew and 



passengers, breaking out cargo from lower 
hold, but very soon discovered that it 
would be impossible to stop the leak, as the 
water was over the cargo. I then left the 
hold and went on deck, where I learnt that 
the lower fires were out, and from this time 
all order and discipline ceased on board. 
The water was up to the lower deck, and 
gaining rapidl}', passengers and crew still 
laboring at the pumps. 

There were six boats on board. The 
first boat was lowered with the chief mate, 
boatswain, and three men ; she was low- 
ered to ascertain the condition of the other 
steamer, and was left behind on its being 
found that the Arctic was in a sinking 
condition. Two of the quarter-boats were 
taken by the second and fourth officers 
and crew. Another boat was taken hy the 
engineers, and was supplied with provis- 
ions, water, etc. ; there were only eight or 
nine in this boat, and, though it was not 
full, they would not permit any one else 
to come on board — indeed, it was said that 
revolvers were threatened to be used on 
this occasion. The fourth quarter-boat 
was hauled alongside by Captain Luce, 
the third mate, and Captain Grann. Into 
this boat, placed in charge of one of the 
shijj's quartermasters, Cajjtain Luce jjut a 
number of ladies ; immediately, several of 
the gentlemen passengers made a rush and 
jumped into the boat, and, as it was full, 
the painter was cut and the boat drifted 
astern. The sixth boat was on the quar- 
ter-deck, and, a lot of spare spars being 
secured for making a raft, this boat was 
launched, for the purpose of aiding the 
construction — the oars being taken out of 
her, so that those who got on board should 
not desert while the lashing of the raft 
was going on. This latter work being 
completed as far as was possible, the boat, 
which was now full, was shoved off from 
the raft, and, in about ten minutes after, 
the noble steamer went down, stern fore- 
most. One fearful shriek went up to 
heaven from that agonized company, as 
they were swept fonvard agaiyist the 
smoke-stack ; and then all was over. 

At the time of the collision, the passen- 



LOSS OF THE STEAMSHIP ARCTIC, 



435 



gers had gathered in the cabin, prepara- 
tory to luncheon, and some of them were 
engaged in drawing the numbers of the 
daily lottery, the chances of the same 
being based upon the number of miles run 
during the jsreceding twenty-four hours. 
The Arctic was then running at the rate 
of twelve and one-half miles an hour, the 
usual speed in foggy weather in that lati- 
tude. Two men were on the lookout, sta- 
tioned on the forecastle, and there was all 
the usual precaution against such a calam- 
ity. The advancing vessel was seen but a 
moment before she struck, but the instant 
she was discovered through the dense fog, 
the order was given, "Hard starboard the 
helm and reverse the engine." The order 
was as quickly obeyed ; and, though at 
first there was no realization of the actual 
damage done, the terror and confusion 
became very great when the extent of the 
injury was disclosed. The conduct of 
Captain Luce was calm, manly, courageous ; 
to the last he declared, " The fate of the 
ship shall he mine." Catherwood, the 
eminent artist. Professor Keed, and Messrs. 
Sandford and Benedict, the well-known 
jurists, were earlj' among the lost. 

On its appearing that the Arctic was 
inevitably lost, the captain put Mrs. Col- 
lins — wife of the owner of the line — and 
her children, with other women, children, 
and passengers, into a boat which was on 
the larboard side of the ship, near the 
wheel-house ; a little biscuit and water 
were provided, but they were without 
compass, and not a single man able to 
guide their course. Unfortunately, at the 
moment of lowering this boat, one of the 
pulleys gave way, the other remaining 
entangled. The boat was precipitated 
nearly perpendicularly, and all who were 
in it, excepting three persons, were thrown 
into the sea and lost. At such a moment, 
a misfortune like this was without a 
remedy. 

The overhauling of the boat, now empty, 
was achieved at last, and it was impossi- 
ble to regulate her destiny, by any mere 
official orders. Passengers and sailors, 
without ceremony, jumped into the boat, 



which was in a few seconds filled. M. de 
Grammont tried to jump, but fell into the 
sea, and would immediately have perished, 
had it not been for his servant, who, by a 
superhuman effort, hoisted him on board. 
Dulaquais (the servant) regained the boat 
by means of a rope, inviting the master to 
follow his example, but the boat had 
already got under way. Dulaquais made 
a great jumj), and fell like an inert mass 
into the boat. M. de Grammont, from 
lack of strength to imitate him, was obliged 
to allow the precious moment to pass 
unimproved which separated safety from 
death. 

One passenger offered thirty thousand 
pounds sterling, or one hundred and fifty 
thousand dollars, if the boats would put 
back to save him. They turned to do so, 
but before they reached him he sank, 
uttering, as he disappeared, the most 
piercing moan of deathly agon\\ 

Another instance was that of a man 
who, just as one of the boats was shoving 
off from the Arctic, called piteously to a 
friend in the boat, and, bidding him good- 
bye, requested him to bear his love to his 
wife in Philadelphia, and tell her he was 
gone. 

Mr. Brennan, one of the engineers, had 
an opportunity to be saved in the chiif 
engineer's boat, but he had charge of a 
boy whom he would not abandon ; both, 
however, were saved in another boat. An 
unknown gentleman threw a heavy purse 
of gold from the ship to the boy, after the 
latter got into the boat. 

The following statement, made \>\ a 
gentleman who was saved from the wreck, 
exhibits human nature in one of its 
strange phases, in view of so terrible a 
crisis : — Among our passengers was a gen- 
tleman about thirty-five to thirty-eight 
j-ears of age, of very reserved manners, 
and evidently depressed spirits. Being 
located in the same berth, I was one day 
accidentally struck by the significant fact 
that his linen was marked with initials 
differing from those of the name by which 
he passed and in which he had shipped. 
A few remarks from me induced him 



436 



LOSS OF THE STEAMSHIP ARCTIC. 



(under promise of secrecy, which the ex- 
tent of this communication does not vio- 
late), to explain how circumstances of a 
distressing nature had induced his expa- 
triation. Subsequent conversations re- 
vealed to me that blighted hopes con- 
strained him to regard his existence but 
lightly, and, from his stolid indifference 
when the encounter took place, it is my 
belief that he courted those embraces of 
death which, alas! so many have vainly 
struggled to resist. 

Every account confirms the statement 
that the ladies exhibited the most admira- 
ble coolness, and stared death in the face 
with a heroism which should have put to 
blush the men who deserted and left them 
to their fate. At the moment when one of 
the unfortunate boats was disappearing 
from mortal view, a French lady, remarked 
for her dark complexion, was seen to be 
courageously using her oar. Not a single 
female, however, of whom there were some 
sixty on board, escaped the awful doom, 
though every possible effort was made by 
Captain Luce to have the women, chil- 
dren, and passengers first cared for. Thus, 
when one of the men attempted to leave, 
the captain caught him, and tore the shirt 
off the man's back to prevent him from 
going, exclaiming, " Let the passeiitjers 
go in the boat." He also seized a kind of 
axe, and attempted to prevent the firemen 
reaching the boat; but it was 'everyone 
for himself,' and, finally, no more attention 
was paid to the captain than to any other 
man on board. 

The Arctic was built in New York, and 
was considered as staunch and splendid a 
vessel as was ever constructed ; her meas- 
urement was three thousand five hundred 
tons, and the whole cost nearly a million 
dollars. Of the more than four hundred 
souls who left Liverpool in this ill-fated 
ship, full of hope, gayety, and health, only 



about one-tenth escaped a watery grave. 
Many of these, including a large number 
of professional and business men of emi- 
nence, were returning from an European 
tour of pleasure. The accident happened 
within forty miles east of Cape Race, the 
eastern extremity of Newfoundland, in the 
neighborhood of the Virgin Rocks. 

After striking the Arctic, the Vesta 
appeared to be sinking, but immediately 
rose again ; but no hope was entertained 
of her ultimate safetj', the passengers and 
crew looking upon the Arctic as their only 
chance of saving their lives. One man 
was killed, and others severely wounded. 
Two boats were put over the side, the first 
of which was sunk ; the second was imme- 
diately boarded by some of the crew and 
passengers, who, heedless of the captain's 
order to return, abandoned the vessel. 
The fog continuing very thick, they lost 
sight of the Arctic altogether, still hoping, 
however, that she would not desert them. 
Lightening the vessel in the fore part, her 
bows were thereby considerably raised, 
thus greatly stopping the rush of water; 
and, by other means and contrivances, 
they were enabled to run, under small 
steam, for the nearest port, St. John's, 
where she arrived September 30th. 

For many days, as already remarked, 
the terrible fate of the Arctic, and the 
marv melancholy incidents connected with 
ii., made a profoundly painful sensation in 
business circles — everywhere, indeed. The 
sympathies of the community were espe- 
cially with Mr. Collins, whose misfortune 
was a double and overwhelming one — the 
loss of his beloved family and his noble 
ship at the same time. The Collins line 
of steamers did more to give character and 
prestige to the mercantile marine of Amer- 
ica than can readily be estimated ; and the 
loss of the Arctic, therefore, was every- 
where regarded as a national calamity. 



LIV. 

ASSAULT ON THE HON. CHARLES SUMNER, BY HON. 
PRESTON S. BROOKS.— 1856. 



Twenty Sudden and Terrible Blows, with a Solid Gutta Percha Cane, Dealt upon Mr. Sumner's Bare 
Head. — He Staggers and Falls, Senseless, Gashed, and Bleeding — Sumner's Great Kansas Speech 
for Free Soil and Free Labor. — Speech b.v Senator Butler, of South Carolina. — Mr. Sumner's Scorch- 
ing Reply. — South Carolinians Offended. — An Assault Determined On. — Mr. Brooks their Champion. 
— Two Days' Watch for His Victim. — Finds Him Alone at His Desk. — Approaches Unobserved. — A 
Quick and Deadly Blow. — Mr. Sumner Instantly Stunned. — His Ineffectual Defense. — Brooks's 
Accomplices at Hand. — Their Advantage over Sumner. — Storm of Public Indignation. — Action Taken 
by Congress. — Reign of Terror at the Capital. — Mr. Sumner's Three Years' Illness. — Recovery, 
Illustrious Career. — Death of Brooks and His Allies. — Time's Retributions. 



" In the name of the Conatitution, which has been outraeeij — of the Laws trampled down— of Justice baniehed— of Humanitv degraded— 
•t Peace destroyed— of Freedom crushed to the earth: and in the name of the Heaveuly Father, whose service is perfect Freedom, 1 moke 
kbkUft appeal."— SGrtATuB ScMKEB'a Speecu, *'TuB Cbiue Aoainst Kansas." 




USEBTY FOB KANSAS. 



|\^ ISTOEY records but one instance of a great 
|R| and honored statesman — one of the foremost 
men of the age, in fact, in his advocacy of 
human rights — being struck down by the 
instruments of bloody violence, while in bis 
seat in the senate chamber of his country's 
capitol, and there lying prostrate, bleeding, 
and insensible, until removed by friendly 
hands. 

This barbarous deed transpired at Washing- 
ton, on the twenty-second of May, 1856 ; and 
it would be difficult to name any other event, 
up to this period, which so shook the country 
to its center — culminating, too, in the brief 
space of but five succeeding j-ears, in that ter- 
rible shock of arms, which changed the desti- 
nies of the republic, and gave new life and the 
national guaranty to human rights. 

On the nineteenth of May, the Hon. Charles 
Sumner, United States senator from Massa- 
chusetts, began a speech in the senate, in favor 
of admitting Kansas into the Union, under a 
state constitution which she had adopted, pro- 
hibiting slavery. The question had for a long 



438 



ASSAULT OX SUMNER, BY BROOKS. 



time produced the most intense political 
excitement all over the land, the south, as 
the advocate of slave territory, and the 
north, as the defender of free soil and free 
labor, being bitterly ai'raj'ed against each 
other. Mr. Sumner treated the subject 
with his accustomed power of argument 
and rhetoric, and at great length, his 
speech occupying two days. A portion of 
it was directed with remarkable vigor and 
sarcasm, though entirely within parlia- 
mentary bounds, to the arguments of tho 
Hon. A. P. Butler, senator from South 
Carolina, delivered some da^'s previously, 
— this part of Mr. Sumner's speech giving 
great offense to the members of congress 
from that state. 

On the twenty-second, the senate ad- 
journed at an early hour, in consequence 
of the announcement of the death of Hon. 
Mr. Miller of Missouri. After the ad- 
journment, as is the custom of some sena- 
tors, Mr. Sumner remained at his desk, 
and was there writing unsuspectingly and 
busily, when he was approached by Pres- 
ton S. Brooks and L. M. Keitt, congress- 
men from South Carolina, each with a 
cane. Brooks was a nephew of Senator 
Butler. Several persons had been about 
Mr. Sumner's desk after the adjournment, 
but just now he was alone. Senator Wil- 
son had left him only a few moments 
before, on his way out passing Brooks, 
who was sitting in a back seat. Brooks 
walked up in front of Mr. Sumner's seat, 
and, saluting him, made the following 
remarks : 

" Mr. Sumner, I have read your speech 
carefully, and with as much calmness as I 
could be expected to read such a speech. 
You have libeled my state, and slandered 
my relative, who is aged and absent, and 
I feel it to be my duty to punish you for 
it." 

Without waiting for any reply, or asking 
for any explanation. Brooks instantly 
struck Mr. Sumner a violent blow upon 
the top of his bare head, while the latter 
was still in a sitting posture, with a heavy 
gutta percha cane. Brooks followed this 
blow immediately with other blows, from 



twelve to twenty in all, dealing them with 
all the force which his herculean size and 
great strength made him master of. 

Mr. Sumner had no distinct conscious- 
ness after the first blow. He involunta- 
rily strove to rise from his seat, but being 
confined by his writing position, he 
wrenched his desk from its iron fasten- 
ings, in attempting to extricate himself. 
Stunned and blinded, however, from the 
first, his efforts at self-defense were inef- 
fectual, and, staggering under the fast- 
repeated blows, he fell senseless to the 
floor, gashed, bleeding, and powerless. 
Tho cane used was a deadlj' weapon, being 
as hard as hickory or whalebone ; it was 
one inch in diameter at the larger end, 
and tapered to tho diameter of about five- 
eighths of an inch at the smaller end, and 
so violently did Brooks deal his blows 
upon the defenseless senator's head, that 
the deadly weapon was shattered into 
many pieces by the time the assault ter- 
minated. 

Mr. Morgan and Mr. IMurray, of the 
New York delegation, were in the front 
ante-chamber, and, hearing the noise, 
went in. Mr. Murray seized hold of 
Brooks, and Mr. Morgan went to the relief 
of Mr. Sumner, whom he found prostrate 
and nearly insensible. The persons pres- 
ent in the senate were Mr. Sutton, one ol 
tho reporters, the assistant sergeant-at- 
arms, Mr. Simonton, Senators Crittenden, 
Iverson, Bright, Toombs, Pearce, and a 
few others. No one of the senators seemed 
to offer to interfere but the venerable Mr. 
Crittenden, who pronounced it an inexcus- 
able outrage. Mr. Wilson rushed into the 
senate-chamber on hearing of the attack, 
but found Mr. Sumner had been removed 
to the vice-president's room, and that a 
surgeon was in attendance. He then 
helped to put his colleague into a carriage, 
and went with him to his lodgings. The 
senator's condition was deplorable. There 
were frightful cuts on his head, and his 
clothes were literally covered with blood. 
Upon the papers and documents covering 
his desk, as well as upon the adjoining 
desks, blood was also freely spattered. 



ASSAULT ON SUMNER, BY BEOOKS. 



4o9 



But for the interference of Messrs. Murray 
and Morgan, Mr. Sumuer woHld have cer- 
tainly been killed, under the remorseless 
and unceasing blows of his assailant ; the 
former seized Brooks around the waist, 
wliilj he was striking Sumner, and, with 
Morgan's help, pulled him away. The 
advantage which Brooks had over his 
victim was complete ; stunning him with 
the very first attack, he afterwards seized 
him by the shoulder, held him with the 
left hand, while, with the other, he kept 
laying deadly blows upon his head. 

It appears that as early as Tuesday, 
before Mr. Sumner's speech was concluded. 
Brooks took exception to the senator's 
remarks ; and that on Wednesday morn- 
ing, after the delivery of the speech, he 




declared to Mr. Edmundson, a member of 
congress from Virginia, by whom he was 
met in the capitol grounds a short time 
before the meeting of the two houses, that 
he had determined to punish Mr. Sumner, 
J unless he made an ample apology for the 
'language he had uttered in his speech; 
Brooks expressed a desire that he, Ed- 
mundson, should be present and witness 
the scene, and they thereupon took a seat 
near the walk leading from Pennsylvania 
avenue to the capitol, where they remained 
some fifteen minutes, awaiting the ap- 
proach of Mr. Sumner, but, as he did not 
make his appearance, the two proceeded to 
the capitol. 



On Thursday morning. Brooks and Ed- 
mundson were again together at the 
western entrance of the capitol grounds 
on Pennsylvania avenue, a point which 
commands a view of all the approaches to 
the capitol from that portion of the city 
in which Mr. Sumner resided. Here, 
Brooks talked with Edmundson about liis 
being on the lookout for Mr. Sumner, and 
his determination to resent the language 
of the speech. They failed to see Mr. 
Sumner, and went to the capitol together. 
In addition to Edmundson, ]\Ir. Keitt had 
also been informed of Brooks's purpose to 
make the assault — indeed, was one of the 
chief planners of the whole thing. Keitt 
was near by, when Brooks commenced the 
attack, and Edmundson took a position in 
an ante-room adjoining ; and, as soon as 
an attempt was made by the bystanders 
to protect Mr. Sumner, Keitt rushed up 
with a cane in a threatening manner, 
Edmundson also entering the chamber 
soon after Mr. Sumner fell. It thus ap- 
peared that the murderous assault was 
premeditated during a period of at least 
two days, and that the only provocation 
consisted in Mr. Sumner's response to 
Mr. Butler's coarse aspersions uttered 
some days before, — Mr. Sumner's words 
being lawfully' spoken in debate in the 
senate chamber, not once being ruled out 
of order by the presiding officer, nor ob- 
jected to by any senator as in any way 
violative of the parliamentary rules estab- 
lished for the government and order of that 
body. 

On the ensuing day, the outrage was 
brought to the attention of the senate, by 
Mr. Wilson, who said : " The seat of my 
colleague is vacant to-da\'. For the first 
time after five years of jsublic service, that 
seat is vacant. Yesterday, after the 
touching tribute of respect to the memory 
of Mr. Miller, of Missouri, a deceased 
member of the house of representatives, 
the senate adjourned. My colleague re- 
mained in his seat, engaged in public 
duties. While thus engaged, with pen in 
hand, and in a position which rendered 
him utterly incapable of protection, or 



440 



ASSAULT ON SUMNER, BY BROOKS. 



defending himself, Mr. Preston S. Brooks, 
a member of the house from Soutli Caro- 
lina, approached him unobserved, and ab- 
ruptly addressed him. Looking up, and 
before he had time to utter a single word 
in reply to him, he received a stunning 
blow on the head from the cane in the 
hands of Mr. Brooks, which made him 
almost senseless and unconscious ; endeav- 
oring, however, to protect himself, in 
rising from his chair, his desk was over- 
thrown ; and while in that powerless con- 
dition, he was beaten upon the head and 
shoulders by repeated blows from Mr. 
Brooks, until he sank upon the floor of the 
senate, unconscious, exhausted, and covered 
with his own blood. He was raised from 
the floor by a few friends, taken into an 
ante-room, and his wounds dressed. From 
thence he was carried to his house, and 
placed upon his bed. He is thus unabie 
to be with us to day, to perform the duties 
which belong to him as a member of this 
body. To hold a member of the senate 
responsible out of this chamber for words 
spoken in debate is a grave offense, not 
only against the rights of a member, but 
against the constitutional privileges of this 
body; but, sir, to come into this chamber, 
and assault a member in his seat, until he 
falls exhausted upon this floor, is an 
offense requiring the prompt action of this 
body. Sir, I submit no motion, — I leave 
it to older senators, whose character and 
position in the senate, and before the 
country, eminently fit them to take the 
lead in a measure to redress the wrongs of 
members of this body, and vindicate the 
honor and dignity of the senate." A com- 
mittee of investigation was appointed. 

In the house of representatives, also, the 
outrage was the subject of legislative 
action, after an exciting debate, in which 
Mr. Burlingame of Massachusetts, thus 
gave expression, in the course of a manly 
and truthful speech, to the sentiments of 
every noble-minded citizen in the land: 
"On the 22d day of May, when the senate 
and the house had clothed themselves in 
mourning for a brother fallen in the battle 
of life in the distant state of Missouri, the 



senator from Massachusetts sat, in the 
silence of the senate chamber, engaged in 
employments appertaining to J^is office, 
when a member from this house, who had 
taken an oath to sustain the constitution, 
stole into the senate — that place which had 
hitherto been held sacred against violence 
— and smote him as Cain smote his 
brother. .... One blow was enough ; 
but it did not satiate the wrath of that 
spirit which had pursued him through two 
days. Again, and again, and again, 
quicker and faster, fell the leaden blowa, 
until he was torn away from his victim, 
when the senator from Massachusetts fell 
into the arms of his friends, and his blood 
ran down the senate floor. Sir, the .act 
was. brief, and my comments on it shall be 
brief also. I denounce it in the name of 
the sovereignty of Massachusetts, which 
was stricken down by the blow ; I de- 
nounce it in the name of humanity; I 
denounce it in the name of civilization, 
which it outraged ! I denounce it in the 
name of that fair play which bullies and 
prize-fighters respect. What ! strike a 
man when he is pinioned — when he cannot 
respond to a blow! Call j-ou that chiv- 
alry ? In what code of honor did you get 
your authority for that ! " Similar legis- 
lative action to that of the senate was 
adopted, on motion of Mr. Campbell, for 
inquiring into the circumstances of so 
brutal, murderous, and cowardly an as- 
sault. 

Being waited on, some days after the 
assault, by the committee of investigation, 
Mr. Sumner, who was confined in great 
suffering to his bed, gave the following 
testimony : " I attended the senate as 
usual, on Thursday, the 22d of May. 
After some formal business, a message was 
received from the house of representatives, 
announcing the death of a member of that 
body from Missouri. This was followtd 
by a brief tribute to the deceased from 
Mr. Geyer, of Missouri, when, according 
to usage and out of respect to the deceased, 
the senate adjourned at once. Instead of 
leaving the senate-chamber with the res* 
of the senators, on the adjournment, I con- 



ASSAULT ON SUJINER, BY BROOKS. 



441 



tinued in my seat, occupied with my pen, 
and wbile thus intent, in order to be in 
season for the mail, which was soon to 
close, I was approached by several persons, 
who desired to converse with me, but I 
answered them promptly and briefly, ex- 
cusing myself for the reason that I was 
engaged. When the last of these persons 
left me, I drew my arm-chair close to my 
desk, and, with my legs under the desk, 
continued writing. My attention at this 
time was so entirely drawn from other 
subjects that, though there must have 
been many persons in the senate, I saw 
nobody. While thus intent, with my 
head bent over my writing, I was ad- 
dressed by a person who approached 




the front of my desk : I was so entirely 
absorbed, that I was not aware of his 
presence until I heard my name pro 
nounced. As I looked up, with pen in 
hand, I saw a tall man, whose countenance 
was not familiar, standing directly over 
me, and at the same moment caught these 
words: 'I have read your speech twice 
over, carefully ; it is a libel oa South Car- 
olina, and Mr. Butler, who is a relative of 
mine.' Wliile these words were still pass- 
ing from his lips, he commenced a succes- 
sion of blows with a heavy cane on my 
bare head, by the first of which I was 
stunned so as to lose my sight. I saw no 
longer my assailant, nor any other person 
or object in the room. What I did after- 



wards was done almost unconsciously, 
acting under the instincts of self-defense. 
With head already bent down, I rose from 
my seat — wrenching up my desk, which 
was screwed to the floor — and then press- 
ing forward, while my assailant continued 
his blows. I had no other consciousness 
until I found myself ten feet forward in 
front of my desk, lying on the floor of the 
senate, with my bleeding head supported 
on the knee of a gentleman whom I soon 
recognized, by voice and manner, as Mr. 
Morgan, of New York. Other persons 
there were about me, offering me friendly 
assistance, but I did not recognize any of 
them. Others there were at a distance, 
looking on and offering no assistance, of 
whom I recognized only Mr. Douglas, of 
Illinois, Mr. Toombs, of Georgia, and I 
thought also my assailant standing be- 
tween them. I was helped from the floor, 
and conducted into the lobby of the senate, 
where I was placed upon a sofa. Of those 
who helped me here I have no recollection. • 
As I entered the lobbv, I recognized Mr. 
Slidell, of Louisian.a, who retreated, but I 
recognized no one else until I felt a 
friendly grasp of the hand, which seemed 
to come from Mr. Campbell, of Ohio. I 
have a vague impression that Mr. Bright, 
president of the senate, spoke to me while 
I was on the floor of the lobby. I make 
this statement in answer to the interroga- 
tory of the committee, and offer it as pre- 
senting completely all my recollections of 
the assault and of the attending circum- 
stances, whether immediately before or 
immediately after. I desire to add, that 
besides the words which I have given as 
uttered by my assailant, I have an indis- 
tinct recollection of the words 'old man;' 
but these are so enveloped in the mist that 
ensued from the first blow, that I am not 
sure whether they were uttered or not." 
On the cross-examination, Mr. Sumner 
stated that he was entirely without arms 
of any kind, and that he had no notice or 
warning of any kind, direct or indirect, of 
any such assault. In answer, also, to a 
cross-question, Mr. Sumner replied that 
what he had said of Senator Butler, of 



442 



ASSAULT ON SUMNEE, BY P.EOOKS. 



South Carolina, was strictly responsive to 
Mr. Butler's speeches, and according to 
the usages of parliamentary debate. 

The dastardly blow which stunned Sen- 
ator Sumner, also stunned, for the moment, 
the great north and west, from Maine to 
Nebraska — but only to arouse them, as 
they had never been aroused before, to a 
realization of the true character of the 
conflict which was being waged from one 
end of the land to the other, and to make 
them more determined than ever, in be- 
half of free soil, free labor, and free 
speech. Indignation meetings, composed 
of the solid worth and intelligence of the 
population throughout the free states, were 
immediately held, to jirotest against so 
cowardly and murderous an attempt to sup- 
press the freedom of debate. In every city 
and town, the masses poured forth, to dem- 
onstrate their reprobation of so brutal and 
atrocious a wrong, and to express sympa- 
thy for Senator Sumner, in view of the 
anguish and peril of his condition. In 
Massachusetts, in especial, the outrage 
upon their great and honored senator pro- 
duced such an outburst of universal indig- 
nation as was never known before. And in 
addition to this, the riches of the wealthy 
were freely proffered him, to defray the 
expenses incident to his disability; and, 
in Boston, a memorial token in appro- 
bation of the great speech for which he 
was stricken down, was only prevented 
from being consummated, b3' the senator's 
earnest request. This memorial was to have 
been a massive and elaborate silver vase,two 
feet in height, and of grand proportions. 
According to the design, there was to be, 
upon the summit of the vase, a figure rep- 
resenting Mr. Sumner holding his Kansas 
speech in his right hand ; on either side 
were the figures of Justice and Freedom, 
crowning him with a wreath of laurel ; a 
winged genius sat at his feet, inscribing 
his name on a tablet. Figures represent- 
ing Victory were upon the arms of the 
vase, heralding the triumph of Freedom. 
Above the inscription to Mr. Sumner, and 
in the center, was the coat of arms of 
Massachusetts. On the foot of the vase 



was the coat-of-arms of the nation, between 
masks and appropriate emblems of Liberty 
and Slaverj'. By Mr. Sumner's special 
desire, the large amount contributed for 
this purpose was devoted to the interests 
of freedom in Kansas. 

But no less was the brutal conduct of 
Brooks applauded throughout the south, 
than was the character of Mr. Sumner 
eulogized, and his condition comj)assion- 
ated, at the north. Almost without excep- 
tion, the newspapers in the interests of 
slavery exulted over the outrage, and 
urged similar treatment of Wade, Seward, 
Wilson, Giddings, Hale, and others. Let- 
ters of admiration for his exploit poured 
in upon Brooks, day after day, and he was 
soon in possession of a dozen choice and 
costly canes, the gifts of friends in South 
Carolina and elsewhere, in place of the 
gutta percha weapon which was broken to 
pieces iu the blows dealt upon the head of 
Senator Sumner. These presentation 
canes were all elegantly mounted with 
silver or gold, and bore commemorative 
inscriptions ; they were also very solid and 
and heavy, one blow from either of them, 
in the hands of so powerful an assailant as 
Brooks, would finish a man of ordinary 
thickness of skull. The one which he 
most prized, was of massive live oak, silver- 
looped, and inscribed with a grateful trib- 
ute from the northern shipmasters doing 
business in Charleston, S. C. 

In due time, the committee of investiga- 
tion appointed b^' the senate made a report, 
but the onlj" action taken by that body 
was to transmit a message to the house, 
complaining that Mr. Brooks, one of its 
members, had made a violent assault upon 
Senator Sumner, but that, as Mr. Brooks 
was a member of the house of representa- 
tives, the latter alone had the power to 
arrest, try, and punish him. In the debate 
in the senate, on the committee's report, 
there was much excitement. Notwith- 
standing it was known to all, that Mr. 
Sumner was confined to his bed, in intense 
suffering. Senator Butler, of South Caro- 
lina, said, among other things, that, " had 
he been in Washington, he should have 



ASSAULT ON SUMNER, BY BROOKS. 



443 



assumed all the responsibility taken by bis 
gallant relative. Mr. Brooks assaulted 
Mr. Sumner with no other purpose than 
to disgrace him. Mr. Brooks was one of 
the best tempered fellows, though impetu- 
ous, no doubt, and quick at resentment. 
Mr. Sumner received two flesh wounds, 
and, being rather handsome, did not just 
now expose himself. If he had been in 
the army, and had not gone out the next 
day after the fracas, he would have de- 
served to be cashiered. On some accounts 
it was fortunate he (Butler) was not here 



ous, Mr. Butler exclaimed from bis seat, 
" You are a liar." 

Brooks immediately challenged Mr. Wil- 
son to mortal combat, for having thus 
characterized the assault, which challenge 
Mr. Wilson declined to accept, on the 
ground that "dueling is a relic of bar- 
barous civilization, which the law of 
the country has branded as crime," and 
preferring to throw himself on " the 
right of self-defense, in its broadest 
sense." Mr. Burlingame was also chal- 
lenged by Brooks, and the latter imme- 




ASSAULT OX SENATOR SHMNEK, BY P. S. BROOKS. 



at the time, for he did not know what he 
might have done. To be sure, it was 
thirty or forty j'ears since he had been 
engaged in a personal conflict, and his 
hand was out of practice, but he did not 
know but he might have had a trial at 
him. One thing he had no doubt of, 
namely, if he (Butler) were a young man, 
lie would have left Jdrn (Sumner) in a 
worse condition than he is noic." In re- 
sponse to Senator Wilson's denunciation 
of the act as brutal, cowardly, and murder- 



diately agreed to meet him, but other 
parties interposing, hostile proceedings 
were stopped. Both northern and south- 
ern senators went armed constantly, and 
there was a "reign of terror" in the 
capital of the nation. Being complained 
of, in one of the criminal courts of the 
city for assault and battery, in his attack 
on Mr. Sumner, Brooks appeared before 
the judge, made an elaborate speech in 
vindication of his course, waived a trial, 
asked for judgment, and, on the judge 



444 



ASSAULT ON SUMNEK, BY BROOKS. 



imposing a fine of throe hundred dollars, 
paid it on the spot. 

The committee of investigation ap- 
pointed by tlie house of representatives 
reported resolutions of expulsion against 
Brooks, and censure against Keitt and 
Edmundson. The resolution to expel 
Brooks received, after a violent debate, one 
hundred and twenty-one votes, and there 
were ninety-five votes in tlie negative ; a 
two-thirds vote being required to expel a 
member, the resolution failed. The reso- 
lution of censure passed. Mr. Hoffman, 
of Maryland, was the only southern mem- 
ber wlio voted to expel Brooks. 

Brooks, however, stung by the rebuke 
conveyed by the vote of a majority of the 
house, made a speech of coarse defiance, in 
which he said, " If I desired to kill the 
senator from ^Massachusetts, why did I not 
do it ? You all admit that I had it in my 
power. Let me tell you, that, expressly to 
prevent taking life, I used an ordinar}' 
cane presented by a friend in Baltimore. 
I went to the senate deliberately. I hesi- 
tated whether I should use a horsewhip or 
a cowhide, but knowing that the strength 
of the senator from Massachusetts was 
superior to mine, I thought he might wrest 
it from me. If he had, I might have done 
what I should have regretted for the re- 
mainder of my life. (A voice : He woiihl 
have killed him!) Ten days ago, foresee- 
ing what the action of the house would be, 
my resignation was put into the hands of 
the governor of South Carolina. And 
now, Mr. Spe.aker. I announce to you and to 
the house. I am no longer a member of the 
thirty-fourth congress." Senators Butler 
and Mason s.it near Brooks during the 
delivery of his speech — of the tone of 
which the preceding brief sentences afford 
some idea, — and were quite merry over it. 
Mr. Brooks retired amid the applause of 
the south gallery, which was filled with 
ladies and gentlemen, and, upon reaching 
the lobby, was embraced and showered 
with kisses by the ladies. 

Returning home to South Carolina, 
Brooks was feted and feasted, and made 
the recipient of every possible mark of 



honor and admiring gr.atitude. An elec- 
tion was soon held to fill the vacancy 
caused by his resignation, and he was 
elected by a unanimous vote. Ouce more, 




PKESTON- 9. BROOKS. 



namely, on the eighth of January-, 1857, 
he made a characteristic speech on the 
floor of congress, against the prohibition 
of slavery in Nebraska. But his career 
was suddenlj' terminated, on the twenty- 
seventh of the same month. His sickness 
was brief — inflammation of the throat — 
and he expired in terrible pain. In the 
intensity of his sufferings from strangula- 
tion, he endeavored to tear open his throat, 
that he might get breath. He was but 
thirty-eight years old, and left a wife and 
four children. His frame was pronounced, 
by the undertaker, the largest for which 
he had ever been called upon to furnish a 
coffin. 

Only four months alter the decease of 
Brooks, Senator Butler died at Edgefield 
court-house, S. C, in the sixtj'-first year 
of his age. Keitt met his death during 
the war of the rebellion, he being at the 
time an officer in the confederate army. 

From the very first, Mr. Sumner's con- 
dition was critical in the extreme, so much 
so, that his physicians considered the 
chances to be against his recovery, and 
visitors were peremptorily forbidden to see 
him. His head and the glands of the 
neck became swollen, the cuts soon ulcer- 
ated, and there was a constant torturing 
pain in the head. An appearance of ery- 
sipelas presented itself, a form of inflam- 
mation greatly to be dreaded. As soon as 
he could be removed with safety, he was 



ASSAULT ON SUMNER, BY BROOKS. 



44.! 



carried into the coun'ry, remaining for 
Bome time uuder the hospitable roof of 
Hon. F. P. Blair, at Silver Spring. In 
the gpring of 1857, he went to Europe by 
the advice of hia physi<;ian.s, and there 
passed gome months, returning in the 
iiitumn, with a view to engaging in his 
public duties. 

Undervaluing, however, the seriousness 
of his condition, Mr. Sumner's anticipa- 
tions of active usefulness were not to be 
so speedily realized. At the time of the 
assault upon him, he failed to comprehend 
the full extent and peculiar nature of the 
injury received, and continued to cherish, 
from the outset, the constant hope of an 
early restoration to sound health. But 
the spring of 1858 found him still in such 
impaired health, as to necessitate another 
visit to Eurof^e, principally with a view to 
the curative influences of travel, exercise 
in the open air, and absence from political 
excitement. At Paris, he met Dr. George 
Hayward, the eminent Boston surgeon, 
who at once urged 'active treatment' — 
that is, the application of a system of 
counter-irritants, in order to reach the 
malady in the cerebral system and in the 
spine. With the sanction of Doctor Hay- 
ward, Mr. Sumner then put himself in the 
hands of Doctor Brown-Sequard, the cele- 
brated X'''y^i''^l''^*t, so well known, on 
both sides of the Atlantic, for his suc- 
cess in diseases of the spine and nervous 
system. 

A careful and acute investigation of Mr. 
.Sumner's case, by this eminent surgeon, 
resulted in ascertaining that, though the 
brain itself was free from any serious 
remaining injur}', the effects of the origi- 
nal commotion there were still manifest in 
an effusion of liquid about the brain and i 
in a slight degree of congestion, chiefly 
confined to the membrane around the 
brain ; it was also found that the spine 
was suffering in two places from the effect 
of what ia called contrerfjjup. Mr. Sumner 
being seated and inclined over his desk at 
the time of the assault, the blows on his 
head took effect by counter-stroke, or com- 
mnnicated shock in the spine. Doctor 



Brown-Sequard agreed with Doctor Hay- 
ward, as to the necessity of an active treat- 
ment, doubting very much whether any de- 
gree of care or lapse of time, unless the mor- 
bid condition of the system were directly 
acted upon, would not always leave the par 
tient exposed to a relapse. He procttdf}, 
therefore, at once, to opphj fire to the hack 
of the ne^Jc and along the spine. " I have 
applied " — writes M. Sequard to a friend, 
at this time — " six moxas to Senator 
Sumner's neck and back, and he has bome 
these exceedinr/l>/ painful apjjlications with 
the greatest courage and patience. You 
know that a ' moxa ' is a burning of the 
skin with inflamed agaric (jrmadou,) cot- 
ton wool, or some other very combustible 
substance. I had never seen a man bear- 
ing with such a fortitude as 3Ir. Sumner 
has ehown, the extremely violent pain of 
this kind of burning." The recovery, by 
Mr. Sumner, of his general health, from 
the original shock, was due to what his 
English and French ph3-sician8 called the 
wonderful recuperative energies of his 
constitution and to a remarkable power of 
resistance to injury. It was this, too, in 
alliance with his untouched vigor of will, 
that enabled Mr. Sumner to bear the moxa 
without the chloroform which Doctor Se- 
quard recommended, and without the 
shrinking which the doctor expected. 

This severe medical treatment was suc- 
ceeded by that of baths and other reme- 
dial resorts. In a letter written by Mr. 
Sumner, in September, 1858, he says : 
"My life is devoted to my health. I wish 
that I could say that I am not still an 
invalid ; but, except when attacked by the 
pain in my chest, I am now comfortable, 
and enjoy my baths, my walks, and the 
repose and incognito which I find here. I 
begin the day with douches, hot and cold, 
and when thoroughly exhausted, am 
wrapped in sheet and blanket, and con- 
veyed to my hotel and laid on my bed. 
After my walk, I find myself obliged again 
to take to my bed, for two hours before 
dinner. But this whole treatment is in 
pleasant contrast with the protracted suf- 
ferings from fire which made my summer 



446 



ASSAULT ON SUMNER, BY BROOKS. 



a torment. And yet I fear that I must 
return again to that treatment. It is with 
a pang unspeakable that I find myself thus 
arrested in the labors of life and in the 
duties of my position." It was not until 
the autumn of 1859, that Mr. Sumner was 
sufficiently restored in health, to justify 
him in returning home and resuming his 
seat in the senate. 

Though originally elected to the United 
States senate by a majority of only one 
vote, in a legislature composed of several 
hundred members, — and not even then 



until after many and wearisome ba.Motings, 
running through several weeks, — be was 
almost unanimously re-elected in 1857; 
again, in 1863, with but few dissentient 
votes; and again, in 1869, with similar 
unanimity; — making a period of twenty- 
four consecutive years, and by which he 
became " the Father of the Senate," in 
point of protracted official service. He 
died, in office, in 1874. The fame of his 
career, as statesman, orator, and philan- 
thropist, may be said to be world-wide. 
Such are time's impressive changes. 



LV. 

TERRIBLE CRISIS IN THE BUSINESS AND FINANCIA.L 

WORLD.— 1857. 



Known .IS " the Great Panic."— A Sudden, Universal Crash in the Height of Prosperity .-Caused by 
Wild Speculations and Enormous Debt.-Suspension of Banlssall Over the Country -Failure of the 
Oldest and Wealthiest Houses —Fortunes Swept Away in a Day .-Prostration of Every Branch of 
Industry.— Prolonged Embarrassment, Distrust, and Suffering— The Panic of 1837 a Comparison — 
Extravagance and High Prices.— Chimerical Railroad Schemes.-Mania for Land Investments — 
Reckless Stock Gambling.— Western Paper Cities —Fabulous Prices for " Lots."— Money Absorbed 
in this Way.— Bursting of the Bubble.— The First Great Blow.— A Bomb in Money Circles -Wide- 
spread Shock and Terror.— Fierce Crowds at the Banks.- A Run Upon Them for Specie.-They 
" Goto the Wall."— Savings Bank E.tcitement.— Rare Doings at the Counters,— Wit, Mirtli, Despair, 
and Kuin.— Forty Thousand Persons in Wall Street.— Factories, Foundries, etc., Stopped.— Business 
Credit Destroyed.— Root of the Whole Difficulty. 



■• Th. mn,t extraordinary, riolent, and destructive panic ever experienced in this coul>try."-GlBBONS-s atsTOET or B*nk3 and 
Uaneino. 




BON ON A BANK. 



AXY pel sons will recall, even at this 
remote lapse of time, the terrible com- 
mercial and business revulsion which 
preceded, by just a score of years, that more general and calamitous one of 1857,— the 
latter being universally known to this day as " ^Ae Great Panic" During the first- 
named, every bank in the Union failed and suspended specie payment, with a compar- 
atively few exceptions. Extravagance pervaded all classes of society, and so general 
and feverish was the excitement in western lands' speculation, that men grasped at 
'lots' in that boundless and then almost untracked region, as if the supply was about 
to be exhausted. Indeed, the picture is but slightly if at all overdrawn, which repre- 
sents the land mania of that period as swallowing up, in its mad whirl, all classes. 
The "man of one idea" was visible everywhere; no man had two. He who had no 
money begged, borrowed, or stole it ; he who had, thought he made a generou. sacri- 
fice if he" lent it cent per cent. The tradesman forsook his shop; the farmer his 



448 



THE GREAT YANIC OF 1857. 



plough ; the merchant his counter ; the 
lawyer his oiSce ; the clergyman his study 

to join the general cbase. The man 

with one leg, or he that had none, could 
at least get on board a steamer, and make 
for Chicago or Milwaukee; the strong, the 
able, but above all, the " enterprising," 
set out with his pocket map and his pocket 
compass, to thread the dim woods, and see 
with his own eyes, — for who could be so 
demented as to waste time in planting, in 
building, in hammering iron, in making 
shoes, when the path of wealth lay wide 
and flowery before him ! A ditcher, hired 
by the job to do a certain piece of work in 
his line, was asked — 

" Well, John, did you make anything ? " 

" Pretty well ; I cleared about ten dol- 
lars a day, but I could have made more by 
standin' round" — that is, watching the 
land market, for bargains. 

The host of travelers on their western 
speculating tours met with many difficul- 
ties, as might be su])posed. Such search- 
ing among trees for town lines ! — such 
ransacking of the woods for section cor- 
ners, ranges, and base lines ! — such anxious 
care in identifying spots possessing " par- 
ticular advantages ! " And then, alas ! 
after all, such precious blunders, — blun- 
ders which called into action another class 
of operators, who became popularly known 
as " land lookers." These were plentiful 
at every turn, ready to furnish " water- 
power," "pine lots," or anything else, at 
a moment's notice. It was impossible to 
mention any part of the country which 
they had not "personally surveyed." 
They would state, with the gravity of 
astrologers, what sort of timber predomi- 
nated on any given tract, drawing sage 
deductions as to the capabilities of the 
soil ! Did the purchaser incline to city 
property ? Lo ! a splendid chart, setting 
forth the advantages of some unequaled 
site. 

But at last this bubble burst — thousands 
of fortunes vanished into thin air — the 
crisis and the panic came like a whirl- 
wind. 

Similar was the state of things preced- 



ing the awful crash in 1857. The times 
were characterized by excessive debts and 
almost incredible extravagance and specu- 
lations. The cities, and many parts of the 
country, were drained of means for legiti- 
mate purposes, being devoted, instead, to 
the construction of unproductive railroads, 
or absorbed in western land speculations. 
The new territories, and some parts of th« 
western states, were almost covered with 
paper cities, selling to the credulous at 
almost fabulous prices. In Kansas alone, 
where scarcely one legal title had as yet 
been granted, there were more acres laid 
out for cities, than were covered by all the 
cities in the northern and middle states. 
Nearly the whole west swarmed with spec- 
ulators, who neither intended to cultivate 
the soil nor settle there, but who expected 
to realize fortunes, without labor, out of 
the bona fide settler. Lots in " cities," 
where was scarcely a house, were sold to 
the inexperienced and the unwary, at 
jjrices equaling those in the large cities. 
These operations, with others of a similarly 
chimerical character, made money scarce 
everywhere, and diverted thousands of 
men, and much of the capital of the coun- 
try, from the business of producing, — 
tending, of course, to extravagant prices 
of food. 

But the omens of disaster began to cast 
their spectral shadows athwart the finan- 
cial sky, the first manifestation being a 
regular decline in the value of leading 
railroad stocks, especially the western 
roads. But the first great blow to public 
confidence was given by the unexpected 
failure, in August, of the Ohio Life Insur- 
ance and Trust Company. The magni- 
tude and importance of the operations of 
this institution throughout the country, 
amounting to millions of dollars, and in- 
volving so many individuals and corpora- 
tions, rendered its suspension a fearfid 
disaster. The announcement fell like a 
bomb in the money circles, and, by the 
first or second week of September, banks 
and business houses began to stop pay- 
ment, and a panic ensued, which became 
almost universal during the month. The 



THE GEEAT PANIC OF 1857. 



U\i 



best mercantile paper was at a discount of 
from three to five per cent, a month. 
Toward the close of the month three of 
the leading banks of Philadelphia failed, 
and the remainder resolved upon a tempo- 
rary suspension of specie payments. This 
was followed by a similar step on the part 
of most of the banks of Pennsylvania, 
Maryland, the District of Columbia, and 
New Jersey. 

No such intense excitement had ever 
before prevailed in Philadelphia, as that 
which reigned when the bank of Pennsyl- 



being nearly two million dollars. Very 
early on the same day, the Girard and 
Commercial banks ceased paying their de- 
posits, but continued to pay their bills. 
Checks were marked good and returned to 
the holders. After three o'clock, the city 
was full of all sorts of rumors, and, at a 
meeting of the bank presidents, a universal 
suspension was agreed upon. These tid- 
ings became rapidly known throughout the 
towns and villages of the state, and the 
next morning a vast number of anxious 
people flocked into the city by steam-boat 




EXCITEMEST IN BUSINESS ClKCl^S DDKING TUE GKEAT FANIO. 



vania closed its doors. Crowds of people 
poured into Third street from the distant 
extremities of the city, and the street 
became a perfect jam, everybody who had 
any money in those banks which had not 
yet stopped specie payment, being in haste 
to obtain their dues. From this vast mass 
of people there radiated lines reaching to 
the counters of all the banks, demanding 
coin for bills and deposits ; and all the 
various applicants, as they presented them- 
selves, received their money, and retired 
in good order. This scene continued until 
the hour of closing, the amount of coin 
thus paid out, from eleven to three o'clock, 
29 



and railroad. As if unwilling to believe 
the unwelcome news, they gathered in 
crowds opposite the various banks, pa- 
tiently awaiting the hour for opening. 
All appeared bent on getting coin for their 
checks and biUs. At ten o'clock the doors 
opened, police oiBcers being everywhere 
about, to preserve order. Each customer 
went up in turn, presented his check, and 
had it marked good; while such as held 
bills were told that the redemption of them 
in specie was temporarily suspended. 

And now, all over the land, east, west, 
north, and south, the dark days of fear, 
alarm, aiid ruin, settled down upon the 



450 



THE GREAT PANIC OF 1857. 



people, and panic raged like a pestilence. 
Indeed, the extent of the crash far ex- 
ceeded what it would have been, but for 
the shock and terror which so needlessly 
possessed men's minds at the instant, and 
unbalanced their judgment. Universal 
distrust prevailed — a loss of that mutual 
confidence between man and man, without 
which, the foundations of mercantile credit 
are washed away as so much sand, but 
with which, temporary difficulties, even 
though stringent, may be surmounted, and 
total ruin to individuals and the public 
prevented. No more fitting illustration of 
the working of this principle of confidence 
could be cited, in sustaining or overturn- 
ing the steadiness of business affairs, than 
the anecdote of the little Frenchman who 
loaned a merchant five thousand dollars, 
when times were good, but who called at 
the counting-house on the times becoming 
" hard," in a state of agitation only faintly 
portrayed in the following hasty colloquy 
which ensued : 

" How do you do ? " inquired the mer- 
chant, as the French creditor presented 
himself at the counter. 

" Sick — ver sick," — replied monsieur. 

" What is the matter ? " 

" De times is de matter." 

" De times ? — ^what disease is that ? " 

" De malaide vat break all de marchants, 
ver much." 

" Ah — the times, eh ? Well, they are 
bad, very bad, sure enough ; but how do 
they affect you ? " 

"Vy, monsieur, I lose de confidence." 

" In whom ? " 

"In everybody." 

"Not in me, I hope?" 

" Pardonnez moi, monsieur ; but I do 
not know who to trust a present, when all 
de marchants break several times, all to 
pieces." 

"Then I presume you want your 
money." 

" Oui, monsieur, I starve for want of 
I' argent" (the silver). 

" Can't you do without it ? " 

"No, monsieur, I must have him." 

"You must?" 



" Oui, monsieur," said little dimity 
breeches, turning pale with apprehension 
for the safety of his money. 

" And you can't do without it ? " 

"No, monsieur, not von other leetle 
moment longare." 

The merchant reached his bank book, 
drew a check on the good old ' Continen- 
tal ' for the amount, and handed it to his 
visitor. 

" Vat is dis, monsieur ? " 

" A check for five thousand dollars, with 
the interest." 

" Is it Ion ? " (good,) said the French- 
man, with amazement. 

"Certainly." 

" Have you V argent in de bank ? " 

"Yes." 

"And is it parfaitement convenient to 
pay de same ? " 

" Undoubtedly ! What astonishes you ? " 

"Vy, dat you have got him in dees 
times." 

" Oh, yes, and I have plenty more. I 
owe nothing that I cannot pay at a. mo- 
ment's notice." 

The Frenchman was perplexed. 

" Monsieur, you shall do me von leetle 
favor, eh ? " 

"With all my heart." 

"Well, monsieur, you shall keep V ar- 
gent for me some leetle year longare." 

" Why, I thought you wanted it ! " 

" Tout au contraire. I no vant de 
argent. I vant de grand confidence. 
Suppose you no got de money, den I vant 
him ver much — suppose you got him, den 
I no vant him at all. Vous comprenez, 
eh?" 

Aiter some further conference, the little 
chatterer prevailed upon the merchant to 
retain the money, and left the counting- 
house with a light heart, and a counte- 
nance very different from the one he wore 
when he entered. His confidence was 
restored — he did not stand in need of the 
money. 

The banks of New York and New 
England remained firm, far into the month 
of October, but so rapid and numberless 
■were the failures, each succeeding day, of 



THE GREAT PANIC OF 1857. 



451 



railroad and other corporations, and busi- 
ness houses which had — some of them — 
breasted all the financial storms of the last 
half century, that these were finally obliged 
to succamb to the avalanche of pressure, 
and fell into the vortex of universal sus- 
pension. Tuesday, the thirteenth of Octo- 
ber, the day preceding the suspension, was 
the climax of the struggle, and Wall 
street, New York, as the great center of 
money operations in the United States, 
presented a scene of wild excitement never 
before witnessed. 

The account of that scene, as given by 
the reporter for the Tribune, is here in 
part reproduced. At ten o'clock in the 



was hurriedly dashed off at its foot, and in 
another moment it was on its way to the 
bank. 

The crowd increased in numbers. Each 
person took his place in the line and 
awaited his turn, while policemen kept 
those out who were present only from 
motives of curiosity. One after another 
was paid, and with the shining treasure 
departed. Scores of hands, skilled by long 
experience in counting coin, were taxed to 
their utmost in their efforts to keep pace 
with the demand for gold. Altogether, 
the scene presented was one of the wildest 
excitement. Thirty to forty thousand 
persons were at the, same moment in the 




EFFECTS OF THE HARD TIMES. 



morning, says that journal, the fronts of 
the different institutions indicated, by the 
crowds gathered around them, that the 
ability of the vaults to yield up their treas- 
ure at the call of depositors and bill-hold- 
ers was to undergo no ordinary test. 
Check after check was presented and paid, 
and still they came. Word soon went 
forth that a run had commenced on the 
banks, and it passed from one house to 
another until the whole lower part of the 
city was alive with excitement. Bank 
books were examined; but a moment was 
required to prepare a check — a signature 



street — some rushing onward in the hope 
to secure their deposits before the hour of 
closing should arrive, and others clustered 
together, discussing the condition of af- 
fairs. One after another of the announce- 
ments made, of banks failing under the 
continued drain upon them, fell with dis- 
may among the crowd, and confident pre- 
dictions were uttered that ten o'clock of 
Wednesday would tell the story of the 
suspension of all. But not a few there 
were, whose belief in the ability of the 
moneyed institutions was still unshaken, 
and they asserted, with earnestness that 



452 



THE GREAT PANIC OF 1857. 



every demand in checks and bills would 
be met to the last, and Panic be laughed 
to scorn. 

But, with all the anxiety and resolute- 
ness depicted upon so many countenances, 
there were those who laughed and cracked 
jokes about their deposits in banks which 
had suspended, and about their stock in 
smashed-up railroads, as though the whole 
thing were a huge joke. From the top of 
Wall street to the bottom — from Broad- 
way to Water street — the sidewalks were 
crowded with people, desirous to know the 
truth of the rumors which filled the air. 

In other parts of the citj', stirring 
scenes were transpiring, and not a few 
that were quite illustrative of human 
nature in its different veins. During the 
run upon the Bowery Savings Bank, an 
old Irishwoman, short, thick, resolute, and 
' a little in for it,' made herself conspicu- 
ous by elbowing her way through the dis- 
trustful depositors, very unceremoniously, 
and denouncing, in no measured terms, 
" the big blackguards that would be af ther 
chatiug a poor body out iv her hard earned 
wagis." Some order of precedence is cus- 
tomary at such times, but the heavy shoes 
of the Irishwoman did such execution 
upon the corns of all who stood in her way, 
that she soon obtained a good place near 
the door, in spite of the remonstrances of 
a dozen or two of younger Biddys, Mag- 
gies, Marys, and Kathleens, who had been 
waiting an hour or two. At the door, she 
had a wordy quarrel with a broad-should- 
ered black man in advance of her, calling 
him a "runaway nagur;" and anon she 
varied her performances by shaking her 
fist in the face of a policeman — who, as an 
official conservator of the peace, had under- 
taken to check her, — and, at length, very 
red and sweaty, she stood before the pay- 
ing teller and presented her book, with a 
vocal invocation to him to do the clean 
thing. " What's this mean ? " said he, look- 
ing at her somewhat impatiently. " What's 
your name ? " "Can't yoos rade writin' 
hand ? " she rejoined sharply ; " shure, 
me nam's on the book ! " "But this," said 
he, " is only a grocer's old pass book ! 



What's your name, I say ? " " Mary 
McEagan I was christened, but I married 
Pat Millikens." The teller turned rapidly 
to his index of depositors. " You have 
got no money in this bank ! " said he, when 
he had ascertained the fact. She left the 
premises in company with an officer, to 
whom she confessed that she had found 
the pass book near the crowd, and think- 
ing it had been dropped accidentally by a 
depositor, she had thought to obtain the 
money before the depositor applied for it. 
At the same bank, one man who drew out 
his deposits was so intoxicated that he 
could hardly stand ; quite likely, he lost 
the savings of years before the night was 
over. At another savings bank, one poor 
girl had her pocket picked of her little all 
— about seventy-seven dollars, before she 
had got out of the crowd. A vast deal 
of chaffing occurred among those who 
thronged the doorways of the banks. " I 
don't know," said one to a bystander, 
" where to put my money when I get it ! " 
"Give it to me," rejoined the other. 
" Sew it up in j'our shirt," said another ; 
and several other methods were promptly 
and merrily suggested by the sj'mpathiz- 
ing spectators, such as " Stick it in your 
wig" — "Let the old woman have it" — 
" Put it in your boots, and let me wear 
them ; " etc. 

At the Sixpenny Savings Bank, a little 
newsboy, without a jacket, and only one 
suspender (and that a string), confronted 
the teller on Monday, and demanded to 
know whether " She was all right " — 
meaning the Institution — because if she 
was, he didn't mean to be scared, if every- 
body else was. He'd got forty-two cents 
salted down there, and all he wanted was 
his (the teller's) word of honor that it 
wouldn't spile. The teller assured him 
that his money was ready for him at any 
moment. "'Nuff said, 'tween gen'l'men, 
but I don't want it," rejoined the youth, 
and with a self-complacent, well-satisfied 
air, walked out of the bank. "Is she 
good ? " cried two or three other news- 
boys who were awaiting the result, at the 
doorsteps. " Yes, s-i-r-r-e-e ! " he replied, 



THE GREAT PANIC OF 1857. 



453 



"as good as wheat. Ketch our bank to 
stop ! Yoos ought to seed the gold I seed 
in der safe ! " " How much was they ? " 
inquired a companion. " More'n a house- 
full ! " was the prompt response, " an' yoos 
don't ketch dis 'ere chile a-makin' an oold 
woman of his-self, an' drawin' out his 
money ; I ain't so green — I ain't ! " 

It will require but little strain of the 
imagination to realize, to one's mind, the 
case of Mrs. Jones, who, on receipt of the 
news of the banks suspending specie pay- 
ments, hastened to her savings bank, 
elbowed her way smartly to the desk, pre- 
sented her book, and demanded her money. 

" Madam," said the clerk, persuasively, 
"are you sure you want to draw this 
money out in specie ? " 

" Mrs. Jones," said a director, with an 
oracular frown, " do you know that you 
are injuring your fellow depositors ? " 

" And setting an example of great folly 
to less educated persons in this commu- 
nity ? " struck in another director. 

" Let us advise you simply to reflect," 
interposed the clerk, blandly. 

"To wait for a day, at least," said the 
director. 

At last there was a pause. 

Mrs. Jones had been collecting herself. 
She burst now. In a tone which was 
heard throughout the building, and above 
all the din of ordinary business, and at 
which her questioners turned ashy pale, 
she said : 

" Will you pay me my inoney ? — tes or 
no!" 

They paid her instantly. 

Not only in the great centers of business 
and finance, like New York, Philadelphia, 
Uoston, Baltimore, Cincinnati, St. Louis, 
and New Orleans, but in every town and 
village, the scarcity of money and the 
failure of banks and commercial houses, 
operated to paralyze industry and bring 
want to thousands of families. In conse- 
quence of the universal stoppage of facto- 
ries, the poorer classes in some of the man- 
ufacturing communities saw winter ap- 
proaching, with no prospect of earning a 
livelihood. Whole families began to suffer 



for bread — the fathers willing and eager to 
work, but absolutely nothing to do. Tales 
of distress were to be heard at almost 
every step, for the factories, forges, and 
foundries, had all ceased their cheerful 
hum of activity, and every day's intelli- 
gence from different parts of the land was 
that of fresh accumulations of disaster, 
increasing the severity of the situation, 
and adding to the general gloom. The 
oldest, heaviest, richest, and firmest mon- 
ej-ed institutions, corporations, companies 
and firms, which were considered equal to 
any pressure that might be brought to 
bear against them, were daily chronicled 
as having " gone to the wall." Fortunes 
were swept away, like ashes in a whirl- 
wind. Not even in 1837, when the bank- 
ing system of the country was in so preca- 
rious a condition, was there such a terrible 
downfall of old and wealthy houses. At 
the west, there was one short, tremendous 
collapse, that seemed to bring ruin, at one 
quick blow, upon everything and every- 
body ; and at the south, the devastation 
was no less wide-spread and fatal. 

Various means were resorted to, to real- 
ize cash for stocks of goods on hand, even 
at a ruinous discount. At numberless shop 
windows were to be seen in staring letters, 
such announcements as: 'These goods 
sold at wholesale prices.' 'Selling off at 
half cost.' 'Bargains to be had for two 
days — now or never ! ' ' We must realize 
ten thousand dollars to-day, at any sacri- 
fice ; ' etc. Indeed, in all the large cities, 
the dry goods dealers, being severely 
pressed for money, offered their goods in 
this way, and effected large sales. A large 
number of the most prominent wholesale 
dealers threw open their vast warehouses 
to retail customers, and by this means, 
probabljf, not a few houses, of that class, 
managed to escape the hard fate that befell 
others. 

Thus, in a word, there was exhibited 
the melancholy spectacle of a great nation's 
commercial, fiiancial, manufacturing, and 
industrial interests in utter ruin, from one 
end of the broad land to the other ; pros- 
perity succeeded by abject adversity ; con- 



454 



THE GEEAT PANIC OF 1857. 



fidence supplanted by total distrust; a 
paralysis of all trade ; the stoppage of 
almost every bauk iu every part of the 
United States, the cessation of factories, 
the discharge of thousands of laborers, the 
inability to bring our large crops of jwod- 
uce to market, the ruinous rate of two or 
three per cent, a month on the strongest 
paper, and a ruinous depreciation in the 
price of all stocks. The steamers on the 
great rivers and lakes stood still ; the 
canal boats ceased to ply ; the railroad 
trains conveyed less than half the usual 
amount of travelers and merchandise ; the 
navigating interest shared the common 
distress, so that the cargoes, brought from 
abroad, either passed into the public stores, 
or were re-exported at great loss ; the 
freighting business was nearly annihilated. 
Alarmed, too, at the prospect before them, 
ship-loads of emigrants were taken home 
to their native land, in the packets run- 
ning from Boston and New York to Eu- 
rope. Nor did the fortune-tellers fail to 
drive a brisk business in informing igno- 
rant and credulous inquirers what was to 
" turn up." 

That this great national calamity had 
its root in the fever for land and railroad 
speculation, involving enormous debt, with 
110 corresponding sound basis or adequate 
means, cannot be doubted. Mr. Gibbons, 
one of the very ablest of American finan- 
cial writers, argues, in respect to this 
point, that, notwithstanding the appear- 
ances of prosperity previous to the panic, 
there existed all the conditions of extraor- 
dinary financial disturbance. A prodig- 
ious weight of insolvency had been carried 
along for years in the volume of trade. 
Extravagance of living had already sapped 
the foundations of commercial success, in 
hundreds of instances where credit sup- 
plied the place of lost capital. Misman- 
agement and fraud had gained footing in 
public companies to an incredible degree; 
hundreds of millions of bonds were issued 
with little regard to the validity of their 
basis, and pressed upon the market by dis- 
lionest agents, at any price, from sixty 
down to thirty cents on the dollar. False 



quotations were obtained by sham auction 
sales. The newspaper press, in particular 
instances, was bribed into silence, or 
became a partner in the profits to be 
derived from the various schemes which it 
commended to general confidence. The 
land grants by congress to railway compa- 
nies gave added impetus to speculation, 
and state legislatures were bribed to locate 
roads to serve individual interests. Public, 
as well as private credit, was comjjromised. 
It could not be otherwise than that 
bankruptcy and an overwhelming crash 
should succeed such an inflated and preca- 
rious state of things. Even when trade 
and business are conducted in accordance 
with fair and legitimate rules, the records 
of insolvency among American merchants 
tell a woful tale. Thus, General Dearborn, 
who for twenty years was collector of the 
port of Boston, and who had ample oppor- 
tunities for observing the vicissitudes of 
trade, ascertained, on investigation, that 
among every hundred of the merchants 
and traders of that city — whose character 
for carefulness and stability will compare 
favorably with that of merchants in anj' 
other portion of the land — not more than 
three ever acquired an independence. 
This conclusion was not arrived at without 
great distrust ; but an experienced mer- 
chant, who was consulted, fully confirmed 
its truth. A Boston antiquarian in the 
year 1800 took a memorandum of every 
person doing business on Long Wharf, 
and in 1840 only five in one hundred 
remained ; all but these had either failed 
or died insolvent. The Union Bank com- 
menced business in 1798, there being then 
only one other bank. The Union was 
overrun with business, the clerks being 
obliged to work till midnight, and even on 
Sundays. An examination, some fifty or 
sixty years from the starting of the bank, 
showed that of one thousand accounts 
opened at the commencement, only six 
remained ; all the others had either failed, 
or died insolvent, — houses whose paper 
had passed without question, the very par- 
ties who had constituted the solid men of 
the city, all had gone down in that period. 



THE GREAT PA^IG OF 1857. 



455 



Of the direful havoc, therefore, created by 
a sudden and violent panic, sweeping over 
the whole country like a hurricane, some 
idea may be formed from the statistics 
here given. 

Kotwithstanding the resumption of 
business on a specie basis, in about two 
months from the time of their suspension, 



by most of those banks which were in a 
solvent condition, it was a long while 
before trade and industry recovered from 
their crippled state; and the embarrass- 
ment and suffering which consequently 
weighed, during so protracted a period, 
upon all classes of the community, were 
painful to the last degree. 



THE "GREAT AWAKENING" IN THE RELIGIOUS WORLD ; 

AND THE POPULAR REVIVAL MOVEMENT (IN 1875-6) 

UNDER MESSRS. MOODY AND SANKEY.— 1857. 



Like a Mighty Rushing Wind, it Sweeps from the Atlantic to the Pacific. — Crowded Prayer- Meetings 
Held Daily in Every City and Town, from the Granite Hills of the North to the Rolling Prairies of 
the West and the Golden Slopes of California. — Large Accessions, from all Classes, to the Churclies 
of Every Name and Denomination. — The "American Pentecost." — Early American Revivals. — Dr. 
Franklin and Mr. Whitefield. — The Revival of 1857 Spontaneous, — No Leaders or Organizers. — Its 
Immediate Cause. — Universal Ruin of Commerce. — Anxiety for Higher Interests. — All Days of the 
Week Alike. — Business Men in the Work. — Telegraphing Religious Tidings. — New York a Center 
of Influence — Fulton Street Prayer-Meeting. — Scenes in Burton's Theater. — New Themes and Actors. 
— Countless Requests for Prayers. — A Wonderful Book. — Striking Moral Results. — Men of Violence 
Reformed. — Crime and Suicide Prevented. — Infidels, Gamblers, Pugilist*, — Jessie Fremont's Gold 
Ring. — " Awful " Gardner's Case. 



•* What nnthinff earthly Kiv*i, or eon destro.v, 
The Boul's calm eunshine and the heartfelt J07.** 




^ 



lEVIVALS of religious feeling 
and interest, attended with 
great numerical accessions to 
■ ^s^ the church, have been not 

unfrequent among the various 
denominations of Christians in Amer- 
ica, from the very earliest period of the 
country's settlement ; and, during the 
eighteenth century, under the labors of 
such men as Whitefield, Edwards, the 
Tennents, and others, such results fol- 
lowed as had never before characterized 
BOOK OF KEQDESTs FOR PKAVERs. j^uy age Or people. The labors of 

Whitefield, iu especial, stirred the public mind to its depths, and reached all hearts. 
Even Dr. Franklin, rationalist though he was, was won upon, head, heart, and pocket, 
by the power of this mightiest of pulpit orators. Happening to attend one of his meet- 
ings in Philadelphia, and perceiving, in the course of the sermon, that Whitefield 
intended to finish with a collection, Franklin silently resolved that the preacher should 
get nothing from him, though he had in his pocket a handful of copper money, three or 
four silver dollars, and five pistoles in gold. As Whitefield proceeded, Franklin began 
to soften, and determined to give the copper. Another stroke of the preacher's oratory, 
made Franklin ashamed of that, and determined him to give the silver instead ; but 



GREAT AWAKENING IN THE RELIGIOUS WORLD. 



457 



the preacher finished so admirably, that 
the philosopher emptied his pocket wholly 
into the collector's dish, gold and all. On 
the same occasion, another gentleman, sus- 
pecting a collection might be intended, 
had, by precaution, emptied his pockets 
before leaving home. Towards the conclu- 
sion of the discourse, however, he felt a 
strong inclination to give, and applied to 
a neighbor, who stood near him, to lend 
him some money for the purpose. The 
request was made to, perhaps, the only 
man in the assembly who had the firmness 
not to be affected by the preacher. His 
answer was, "At any other time, friend 
Hodgkinson, I would lend to thee freel3'; 
but not now, for thee seems to be out of 
thy right senses." The multitudes, of all 
denominations, that went to hear this won- 
derful man, were enormous — indeed, one 
great secret of his success was, his freedom 
from sectarian prejudice and animosity. 
As an illustration of this quality, it is 
related that in the midst of one of his 
most overpowering discourses, he stopped 
short for an instant, and then uttered the 
following impressive apostrophe: "Father 
Abraham, who have you in heaven ? any 
Episcopalians?" "No." " Any Presby- 
terians ? " "No." "Any Baptists?" 
" No." "Have you any Methodists, Sece- 
ders, or Independents there?" "No, 
no ! " " Why who have j'ou there ? " 
" We don't know those names here. All 
who are here are Christians, believers in 
Christ — men who have overcome by the 
blood of the Lamb, and the word of his 
testimony." "Oh, is that the case ? then 
God help me, God help us all, to forget 
party names, and to become Christians, in 
deed and in truth." The labors of such a 
champion could not be otherwise than 
fruitful of good. 

Without dwelling upon the scenes and 
results relating to the early religious 
efforts alluded to above, it may be said of 
the revival in 1857-8 — known as "the 
Great Awakening," and which is the 
subject of this chapter, — that it depended 
not upon any leader or preacher, however 
eloquent, but was the spontaneous out- 



growth of the heart's necessities, felt in 
common by the great mass of the public, 
in view of the financial tornado which, 
sweeping with such universal destructive- 
ness over the land, had given impressive 
weight to the truth, that " the things 
which are seen are temporal, out the 
things which are not seen are eternal." 
No words could convey a better idea of the 
general feeling which thus possessed men's 
minds at this period of mercantile ruin on 
the one hand, and of religious anxiety on 
the other, than those uttered by a promi- 
nent merchant of New York, at one of the 
business men's daily prayer-meetings in 
that cit}'. "Prayer," said he, "was never 
so great a blessing to me as it is now. I 
should certainly either break down or turn 
rascal, except for it ! When one sees his 
property taken from him every day, by 
those who might pay him if they were 
willing to make sacrifices in order to do it, 
but who will not make the least effort even 
for this end, and by some who seem de- 
signedly to take advantage of the times, in 
order to defraud him — and when he him- 
self is liable to the keenest reproaches from 
others if he does not pay money, which he 
cannot collect and cannot create — the 
temptation is tremendous to forget Chris- 
tian charity, and be as hard and unmerci- 
ful as anybody. If I could not get some 
half hours every day to pray myself into a 
right state of mind, I should either be 
overburdened and disheartened, or do such 
things as no Christian man ought." Tes- 
timonies like this were innumerable from 
business men, — they, as well as the laity 
in general, being most prominent in carry- 
ing on the work. 

But, though this movement was, in a 
very great degree, spontaneous, it was 
early accompanied by a systematic plan of 
family visitation, in the principal cities, 
and b^' noonday prayer-meetings, in almost 
every city, town, and village, from one end 
of the country to the other. In such 
places as New York, Boston, Philadelphia, 
Cincinnati, Chicago, Richmond, as well as 
farther south and west, not only were the 
usual houses of worship crowded daily, but 



458 



GREAT AWAKENING IN THE EELIGIOUS WORLD. 



the largest public halls were hired for tlie 
same purpose, and resounded every day 
with fervent prayers, songs of praise, and 
earnest exhortations. 

Thus, in Philadelphia, the vast audience 
room of Jayne's Hall, and, in New York, 
Burton's well-known theater, were appro- 
priated for religious assemblings. The 
room hitherto occupied in the first-named 
hall, contained accommodations for about 
three hundred persons, and when it was 
decided upon to remove into the large hall, 
it was with no expectation that the room 
would be filled, at such an hour as noon- 
da}'. To the amazement of all, however, 
it was densely crowded, every seat being 
occupied, including the settees in the aisles, 
and a large portion of the immense galler- 
ies, and those who left for want of room 
upon the main floor, are said to have 
exceeded the number who could not gain 
admission on the day previous, when the 
meeting was held in the small room ad- 
joining. It was estimated that there were 
certainly not less than three thousand per- 
sons who entered the hall during the hour, 
and it was conceded, by those whose 
means of knowledge enabled them to judge, 
that this was the largest meeting convened 
for the simple purpose of prayer to God, 
that had ever been assembled in this 
country. 

From New York city, a vast religious 
influence went forth to all parts of the 
land, and details of the daily proceedings 
in the prayer-meetings held at Burton's 
theater, and in the Fulton street and John 
street church vestries, were published far 
and wide by tlie secular press. Indeed, 
the fullness and candor cliaracterizing the 
reports contained in the city journals, 
were, with scarcely an exception, most 
honorable to those influential mediums of 
public enlightenment. Of the now almost 
world-renowned Fulton street prayer-meet- 
ing, held at first in one room, but to which, 
as the revival progressed, it was found 
necessary to add two more, the Daily Tri- 
bune of March 6, 1858, said: "All three 
are now not only filled to their utmost 
capacity, but would be still more largely 



attended if there were sitting or even 
standing-room to be offered to the multi- 
tude. A placard is posted on the gate, 
inviting j^ersons to enter, though such an 
invitation seems no longer necessary : 
' Step in for five minutes, or longer, as 
j-our time permits.' Inside notices are 
hung on the walls, to the effect that 
prayers and remarks should be brief, ' in 
order to give all an opportunity,' and for- 
bidding the introduction of ' controverted 
points,' for the purpose of preventing the- 
ological discussion. These precautions are 
taken, in order to give as much variety as 
possible to the exercises, for it is always 
unpardonable to render a crowded meeting 
dull. The frequenters of this meeting 
come from all classes of society, and are 
invited as such, without regard to their 
differences. Many clergymen of the city 
churches, and many prominent laymen, 
including merchants and gentlemen in the 
legal and medical professions, are seen 
there every day — as they ought to be seen 
— side by side with the mechanic and the 
day laborer, and even the street beggar. 
Draymen drive up their carts to the 
church, and, hitching their horses outside, 
go in with the crowd; and 'fine ladies,' 
who sometimes have Christian hearts in 
spite of unchristian fashions, driven down 
from *up town ' in their fine carriages, also 
step in and mingle with the same multi- 
tude. The exercises consist about equally 
of prayers, remarks, and singing. Of 
course it is impracticable for so many to 
take part in the speaking or the audible 
praying, but they all join in the singing 
with great zeal and emphasis. On one 
occasion, the volume of sound was so lieavy 
as to dislodge from its place on the wall 
the clock which had been securely fastened, 
as was supposed, and bring it crashing to 
the floor. It is not unfrequent, during the 
continuance of the meeting, to see a crowd 
of persons collected in the street in front 
of the church, to listen to the spirit-stirring 
hymns that are sung inside. The prayer- 
meeting held in the old Methodist church 
in John street is similar to this. The 
attendance here is already found sufficient 



GREAT AWAKENING IN THE REIIGIOUS WORLD. 



459 



to crowd the entire ground floor of the 
building. Many Methodist bretliren at- 
tend this meeting in preference to the 
other, but tlie proceedings are character- 
ized with entire catholicity and freedom 
from sectarianism." Perhaps no better 
illustration could be afforded of this unsec- 
tarian feeling, as well as of the prevailing 
spirit of the times, than the following dis- 
patch, which was sent by telegraph, at 
noon, March 12th, to the great union 
prayer-meeting in Jayne's Hall, Philadel- 
phia : 

" Christian Brethren — The Kew York 
John street Union Meeting sends you 
greeting in brotherly love : ' And the in- 
habitants of one city shall go to another, 
saying, Let us go speedily to pray before 
the Lord, and to seek the Lord of Hosts — 
I will go also. Praise the Lord — call 
upon his name — declare his doings among 
the people — make mention that his name 
is exalted.' " 

To the above message, the following 
dispatch from Mr. George H. Stuart, a 
prominent Old School Presbyterian and 
chairman of the Philadelphia meeting, was 
immediately telegraphed and read to the 
John street meeting : 

" Jayne's Hall daily Praj-er Meeting is 
crowded ; upwards of three thousand pres- 
ent ; with one mind and heart they glorify 
our Father in heaven for the mighty work 
he is doing in our city and country, in tlie 
building up of saints and the conversion of 
sinners. The Lord hath done great things 
for us, whence joy to us is brought. May 
He who holds the seven stars in his right 
hand, and who walks in the midst of the 
churches, be with you by His Spirit this 
day. Grace, mercy, and peace, be with 
you." 

Even among those denominations unac- 
customed to what are known as 'revival 
measures ' for the furtherance of religion, 
such as the Unitarian, Universalist, and 
Episcopalian, a disposition was manifested 
to co-operate, in prayers and labors, for the 
success of the good work. In Boston, and 
other places, prayer-meetings were con- 
ducted by the Unitarian clergy and laity, 



which were thronged to the utmost capac- 
ity of the halls used for the purpose. In 
New York, the Orchard Street Universalist 
church. Rev. Dr. Sawyer, exhibited a warm 
sjmpathy with the revival, and took an 
active part in its progress ; praj'er-meetings 
were held twice a week, which were fully at- 
tended, a deep religious feeling pervaded 
the congregation, and large numbers 
united with the church. The card of invi- 
tation to their praj-er-meeting, which, like 
that of other denominations, was exten- 
sively circulated, read as follows : A gen- 
eral prajer-meeting will be held every 
Wednesday and Friday evening, at half- 
past seven o'clock, in the lecture-room of 
the Rev. Dr. Sawyer's church. Orchard 
street, near Broome. 'Ho, everyone that 
thirsteth, come ye to the waters, and he 
that hath no money ; come ye, buy and 
eat ; j-ea, come, buy wine and milk with- 
out money and without price.' 

Among the Episcopalians, meetings of 
deep interest were held, including regular 
evening services for prayer and short ad- 
dresses, at the Church of the Ascension, 
New York, Rev. Dr. Bedell's. One of 
these meetings was of a very impressive 
character. The meeting commenced with 
singing the hymn, "Stay, thou insulted 
Spirit, stay," a series of prayers followed, 
after which Rev. Mr. Dickson delivered 
a short address, founded on the words, 
" Lord, are there few that be saved ? " 
Other hymns were sung, and then remarks 
made by Rev. Drs. Dyer and Cutler, Epis- 
copal rectors. Doctor Cutler said that, 
twenty years ago, such a meeting as the 
present one would have been denounced as 
Mcthodistical ; but he felt that he could 
almost say, with Simeon of old, "Now, 
Lord, let thy servant depart in peace," foi 
he had witnessed that glorious "levia- 
than," the Episcopal Church, which for 
forty years he had lamented to see, with 
all its noble qualities and precious gifts, 
being fast in the stocks, at last launched 
and making full headway in the river that 
flows from the Citj' of God. 

Next to the Fulton street prayer-meet- 
ing, in point of wide-reaching influence, 



460 



GREAT AWAKENING IN THE RELIGIOUS V, ORLD. 




GKOUP OF EMINENT REVIVAL PREiCHEBS DTJRINO THE NATIONAL CENTUBM. 



GREAT AWAKENING IN THE RELIGIOUS WORLD. 



461 



the meetings for prayer held daily, at 
noon, in Burton's theater, may be spoken 
of as most conspicuous. It was hired for 
this purpose by the New York Young 
Men's Christian Association, and was 
crowded daily with earnest-minded men 
and women, fervent in their songs, prayers, 
and exhortations. The place made so 
famous, in years past, by the histrionic 
[lerformances of Burton, Blake, Placide, 
Holland, Davenport, Johnston, Lester, 
Jordan, Fisher, Brougham, and other 
celebrities, now resounded with the soul- 
stirring appeals of such men as Cuyler, 
Beecher, Hatfield, Armitage, and a host of 
warm-hearted merchants and professional 
men, all enlisted in the good work of ex- 
tolling the glad tidings of salvation. In- 
stead of polkas, schottisches, and waltzes 
— instead of fiddle and bow, orchestra and 
overture, — there were the grave and seri- 
ous hymns, " Children of the Heavenly 
King," and " Salvation, the joyful 
sound," " Return, my wandering eoul, 
return," etc. With the exception of now 
and then a fervid " Amen," or a hearty 
" Yes, Lord," the order and quiet of the 
audience during the speaking were entirely 
uninterrupted. 

At all the multitudinous prayer-meet- 
ings held in different places throughout 
the country, one marked feature of the 
proceedings was that of receiving and 
reading requests for prayers. The re- 
quests of this character sent to the Fulton 
street meeting have all been carefully pre- 
served in a book, constituting a volume 
upon which no one can look without the 
deepest interest. The scope and variety 
of these requests afford so apt a reflection 
of the state of feeling during the revival 
period, that a few specimens of those pre- 
sented at different times and places, will 
be a fair illustration of all : 

' A Christian merchant earnestly desires 
the prayers of God's people for his co-part- 
ners in business, and for all the young 
men in their employment unconverted to 
God.' 

'An anxious wife is praying earnestly 
at this hour for her husband, who once 



made a profession of religion, but is now 
fearful that he never was born of the 
Spirit, and is in darkness. She asks for 
an interest in your prayers in his behalf.' 

' The prayers of those who are accus- 
tomed to intercede with God, are requested 
by a San Franciscan, that the Almighty 
would visit the city of San Francisco with 
a gracious outpouring of his Spirit. Re- 
member your brothers and fathers on the 
Pacific coast.' 

' The prayers of this meeting are re- 
quested for a young lady who scoffs at 
religion. Don't forget her, brethren. She 
has no one to pray for her but the writer 
of this. Oh, pray for her.' 

' A widow asks for the prayers of the 
brethren and sisters for a son brought up 
under careful religious instruction, who 
last night cursed his mother — that he may 
this day be brought to the feet of Jesus.' 

' Prayers are requested for a sister who 
is given to intemperance.' 

' The prayers of Christians are most 
earnestly requested by a son in behalf of 
an aged father, nearly seventy years old. 
A family of ten children are praying- 
morning, noon, and night for him.' 

' The prayers of Christians are requested 
for a j'oung man — the son of a clergyman 
— who is an idle jester on the subject of 
religion, and who has, within the last 
hour, been heard to ridicule these meet- 
ings, and to jest upon these subjects.' 

* My husband is not a Christian, though 
often thoughtful. I have prayed for his 
conversion every day since our marriage 
— nine years. May I ask an interest in 
your prayers that my husband may seek 
now an interest in Christ, and that we 
may both become devoted, earnest, Bible- 
Christians ? ' 

' The prayers of the Fulton street meet- 
ing are earnestly requested for a bible 
class of twenty-two young ladies, con- 
nected with one of the Dutch Reformed 
churches in this vicinity, some of whom 
appear to be anxious for their souls.' 

It was in this spirit that the Great 
Awakening showed its character and its 
power in all sections of the land, north, 



462 



GREAT AWAKENING IN THE RELIGIOUS WORLD. 



south, east, and west, tlie Wind of God 
sweeping benignly from the Atlantic to 
the Pacific, — reaching across the length 
and breadth of the continent, — from the 
granite mountains of the north to the roll- 
ing prairies of the west and the golden 
elopes of California. It was, in a word, 
the American Pentecost, — the great relig- 
ious epoch of the national century, un- 
equaled in earnestness, union, and univer- 
sality, by any similar movement that had 
preceded it, in the history of the western 
world. The spiritual activities of the 
denominations were everywhere constant 
and fruitful, the accessions to the churches 
being numbered by scores of thousands. 
In places the most obscure, remote and 
isolated, the most fervid religious engaged- 
ness was to be found, while, in the larger 
towns and cities, no business man, what- 
ever his location, needed to go forty rods 
to find a prayer-meeting in operation, with 
a printed invitation outside for him to 
enter and listen to the prayers and expe- 
riences of others, and, if he so desired, take 
a part in the exercises himself. There 
were special meetings for prayer, also, in 
behalf of firemen, policemen, waiters at 
hotels, seamen, and boys, maintained 
wholly or in part by the classes specially 
named, and resulting in a large amount of 
good. Men of established Christian char- 
acter were strengthened in their good pur- 
poses ; the indifferent and heedless were 
awakened to thoughtfulness on religious 
themes ; and multitudes, everywhere, who 
had led lives of immorality and wicked- 
ness, dangerous to society, were reclaimed, 
and henceforth walked in the path of 
virtue and honor. 

Of the many interesting incidents which 
transpired during this wonderful period, 
only a few can here be cited. 

Just after the commencement of the 
great panic, (says Rev. Mr. Adams, a well- 
known Methodist preacher in New York,) 
a young man called on me late on Satur- 
day night. He was the picture of distress 
and despair. Supposing him to be one of 
the many cases that daily came under my 
notice, I invited him in. He sat some 



minutes in perfect silence, and finally 
burst into tears. It was some time before 
he could control himself sufficiently to go 
on, and then said, "Can you do anything 
for me ? " I requested him to state his 
case. He said he was miserable beyond 
description — had been blessed with pious 
parents and a religious education, but had 
gone far away from the counsels of his 
fathers ; he had fallen into shameful sin, 
until his soul loathed himself, and he had 
been on the verge of self-destruction. 
"This afternoon," said he, "feeling a hell 
within, I went and bought poison, — went 
into my room, and was about to take it, 
when something seemed to say to me, ' Go 
down and see the minister,' and I have 
come. Will you pray for me ? " He fell 
on his knees and cried aloud for mercy. 
After two hours of prayer, he grew calm, 
and finally joyful. He gave me a package, 
and requested me to destroy it; there was 
laudanum in it — enough to have killed 
half a dozen men. 

One of the first conversions among the 
sailors, was that of a man who had been 
greatly addicted to gambling, and to other 
vices that usually accompany this. When 
he went to the meeting, he had just left 
the gaming-table ; but when he returned, 
his first act was to consign his cards and 
dice to the flames. He then knelt down, 
prayed, and was converted. He went to 
sea, and on board the ship daily prayer- 
meetings were held both in the cabin and 
forecastle. 

A merchant, after having attended one 
of the crowded prayer-meetings held in 
the city, determined, on returning home, 
to make an effort for the spiritual good of 
some of his friends and neighbors. One 
of these was a man who avowed himself an 
infidel. A prayer-meeting was organized, 
to which this man with others was invited, 
and, after several days' attendance, rose 
on one occasion, and requested that prayer 
should be made in his behalf. To the 
surprise and almost astonishment of his 
acquaintances, he shortly afterward re- 
nounced infidelity, and embraced the 
Christian religion. 



GREAT AWAKENING IN THE RELIGIOUS WORLD. 



463 



At many of the telegraph offices, mes- 
sages were constautlj' being sent to all 
jiarts of the land, announcing conversions, 
kjome of these were exceedingly tender and 
touching, such as, 'Dear mother, the revi- 
val continues, and I, too, have been con- 
verted.' ' My dear parents, j-ou will re- 
joice to hear that I have found peace with 
God.' 'Tell mj' sister that I have come 
to the Cross of Christ.' 'At last I have 
faith and peace.' 

The influence of personal effort and a 
good example was forcibly illustrated in 
the following case of a man and wife, who 
were utterly regardless even of the forms 
of religion, the husband, indeed, being an 
infidel. The wife had, however, been 
taken by some one to the meetings in a 
neighboring Methodist church, and, un- 
known to her husband, had become inter- 
ested in them. One day he was scoffi.'-g 
in her presence at the revival, expressing 
his disbelief in everything of the kind, 
especially ridiculing the Methodist modes 
of labor, and winding up with a threat 
that he would soon stop any of his family 
who should be guilty of the foil}' of going 
up to the altar. " Why," said his wife, 
throwing her arms round his neck, and 
giving him a kiss, " do you know that / 
was there last night ? " " No," he replied, 
returning her kiss ; " but I am glad of it." 
He was softened ; that same evening he 
accompanied her to meeting, and went up 
to the altar himself. 

St. Paul's Episcopal church, on Broad- 
way, New York, was filled with multi- 
tudes, on Wednesday and Friday evenings, 
in attendance on the devotional services 
performed there. On one of these occa- 
sions, soon after the exercises commenced, 
the large and fashionable congregation was 
surprised by the entrance of three Indian 
maidens, wrapped in their blue blankets. 
They paused for an instant at the door, 
and then advanced to the front of the altar 
with quiet dignity and self-possession, and 
knelt down to their devotions. As the 
solemn ceremonies drew near to a close, 
they rose, crossed themselves, and, saluting 
the altar, glided down the aisle and from 



the church. They were of the Caughne- 
waga tribe, residing near Montreal, and 
had visited New York for the purpose of 
selling their trinkets, bead moccasins, and 
baskets. Being mostly Catholics, they 
usually worshiped in the church of that 
order on Canal street; but it seemed that 
they had observed the brilliantly illumin- 
ated church in passing bj-, and had entered, 
forgetful of form or sect, to kneel with 
their white sisters before the common 
Father of all. 

In Mr. Beecher's church, Brooklyn, at 
the close of one of the morning meetings, 
a charitable collection was taken up. 
Among the audience was Mrs. Fremont 
(" Our Jessie "), who, happening to have 
no money in her pocket, as the plate was 
passed, took from her finger a heavy gold 
ring, and threw it in as the only contribu- 
tion which she was able at the moment to 
make. The ring contained on the outside 
an engraved bee, — in allusion to a beautiful 
incident in Fremont's passage of the 
Rocky Mountains, — and, on the inside, 
the inscription, ' March 4, '57.' 

One of the most remarkable conversions 
among the dangerous and criminal classes, 
was that of Orville Gardner, commonly 
called " Awful " Gardner, a noted prize- 
fighter and trainer of pugilists. He was 
induced to attend one of the Methodist 
meetings, and, to the surprise of multi- 
tudes, he requested the praj-ers of the con- 
gregation, a request which on three differ- 
ent occasiops he repeated. At this time, 
he was residing in the vicinity of New 
York. Having some unimportant busi- 
ness to do in that city, a friend asked him 
if he would " jump into the cars and go 
down and attend to it." He replied, " I 
have more important business to attend to 
first, and I shall not go to the city till it 
is done." He had then three men under 
his training for a prize-fight. On being 
asked if he would give them further les- 
sons, he replied that "he would go to 
them soon, but on a different errand from 
boxing and training — he would try to per- 
suade them to reform, and to embrace 
religion." 



464 



GREAT AWAKENING IN THE EELIGIOUS WORLD. 



A young man, hearing himself prayed 
for by some friends, became so angry, that 
he resolved to sell his farm and go west, 
away from such interfering relatives. 
They continued to pray, and he finally 
sold his farm, and was going to start for 
Albany, on his way to the west. While 
going to take the cars, he passed the 
prayer-meeting, and, having some time to 
wait for the train, thought he would just 
step in, to pass the time away, and see 
what was going on. He went in, was 
deeply impressed, and his case was imme- 
diately added to the great multitude of 
similar instances of reformation, which 
made the Great Awakening of 1857-8 so 
memorable in the religious history of the 
nation. 



world-wide fame, who had some time prcs- 
viously been on a tour of active and suc- 
cessful religious labor in different parts of 
Europe. Returning to their native land, 
they devoted themselves, for consecutive 
months, and with great and disinterested 
earnestness, among the masses, and this, 
too, as it appeared, not only without stated 
or assured pecuniary compensation, but 
absolutely without consideration of money 
or hire, beyond what was voluntarily con- 
tributed by friends for their current ex- 
penses. 

Never before, perhaps, were the fount- 
ains of the higher life in man opened up 
so abundantly and universally in our land, 
as by the efforts of these simple-spoken 
but intrepid and warm-hearted reformers, 




^'^^eHT.im^^ 



0.5ANKE'' 



But, in addition to the Great Awaken- 
ing thus distinguishing the periods de- 
scribed, and which wrought such mighty 
results, there was to succeed another, 
which, in some of its aspects, was to prove 
even more noteworthy. Indeed, it may 
be said, without exaggeration, that one of 
the most happy, conciliatory, and widely 
useful religious movements characterizing 
the history of our country, and, in fact, 
the history of modern times, — creating an 
enthusiasm as genial and far-reaching as 
it was decorous and practical, — was that 
which commenced in the fall of 1875, 
under the personal auspices of Messrs. 
Moody and Sankey, lay evangelists of 



as they went from town to town and from 
city to city, with the proclamation, by fer- 
vent discourse, and cheering, melting song, 
of the " glad tidings of good." 

Standing aloof from even the shadow of 
sectarian propagandism or theological dis- 
putation, they enlisted the co-operation — 
or, at least, the good will and God-speed — 
of all denominations of Christians, and, so 
conciliatory was their speech, and so ra- 
tional their methods, in appealing to the 
irreligious or indifferent, that, unlike the 
experience which would probably have at- 
tended a different course, little if any time 
was lost in provoking criticism or combat- 
i ing objections. And this, in a word, was 



GREAT AWAKENING IN THE RELIGIOUS WORLL. 



465 



the cause of the welcome extended them, 
wherever they went, and of the almost 
invariably rich harvests which accom- 
panied their labors. Nothing, in fact, 
could better evince the favorable impres- 
sio'i made by these evangelists upon soci- 
ety, than the judgments of the value of 
their work, expressed by those not holding 
their opinions. Thus, the Tablet, an in- 
fluential journal of the Roman Catholic 
faith, published in New York, spoke of 
Mr. Moody as affording, in "the midst of 
an age of mocking and unbelieving, a kind 
of earnest testimony to Jesus, and we can 
not find it in our heart to say it is not of 
God ; " and, though guarding its conces- 
sions by the claim for its own Church of 
possessing solely the real truth, it admit- 
ted, nevertheless, that "it is something in 
cities where the divinity of Christ and His 
divine teaching are openly blasphemed, 
and where to the great bulk of the popula- 
tion the Christian religion is a matter of 
complete indifference, when it is not one 
of scorn, that their ears should be accus- 
tomed to words of adoration and love of 
Him, and that even the dreary wastes of 
heresy should echo with the name of 
Jesus. . . . This work of Mr. Moody's is 
not sin. It cannot be sin to invite men 
to love and serve Jesus Christ." 

And in a similar spirit to that just cited, 
the Jewish Messenger, referring to the 
meetings contemplated to be held by these 
evangelists, in the vast hippodrome, New 
York city, expressed it as its opinion that, 
whatever objection might be urged to 
emotional religion as spasmodic, lacking 
in substantial good, no man of sense could 
declaim against such services, if conducted 
in the same orderly and earnest way that 
had characterized the meetings else- 
where. In the same vein was the utter- 
ance of a distinguished preacher in 
Brooklyn, N. Y., — one representing the 
extreme wing of the ' liberal ' school, — 
who declared, in a sermon, that, if 
Moody and Sankey could reach the 
masses of the people, " they would jjer- 
form a work for which all lovers of man- 
kind would be grateful." That this hope 
30 



was largely realized, in the case of 
Brooklyn itself, is well known. 

One of the events in Mr. Moody's career 
which peculiarly conspired to awaken pop- 
ular enthusiasm in behalf of him and his 
cause, on this side of the Atlantic, was the 
account, which preceded his arrival in 
America by some weeks, of the extraordi- 
nary occasion attending the close of the 
evangelists' wonderful labors in London, 
and which, on being read by their friends 
in this country, seemed like a prophecy of 
great things in store for their native land, 
when their homeward voyage should be 
accomplished. It appeared, according to 
the account of the meeting referred to— 
the last of the immense gatherings of this 
kind in that metropolis — that, for some 
days prior to its taking place, the anxiety 
of the people to obtain admission to the 
hall amounted almost to a frenzj', and not 
altogether a harmless one. Numbers were 
waiting for admission as early as three 
o'clock in the morning, or hours before the 
opening, — all the approaches were crowded 
with surging throngs, some of whom had 
come from great distances, — and, all 
around, dense masses of men, women, and 
children, were present, worked up to the 
highest point of interest and expectation. 
Mr. Moody found entrance through a pri- 
vate house adjoining, and with the help of 
a ladder. Meetings were held outside, but 
nothing less than seeing and hearing Mr. 
Moody would satisfy the densely packed 
multitude. Among the great dignitaries 
present were the Queen of the Netherlands 
and the Duchess of Sutherland. The last 
words of the evangelist ware very impres- 
sive, as indeed, was the whole scene of 
this most memorable occasion, and his sen- 
timents, as then and there uttered — rapid, 
spontaneous, gushing, — may be said to 
fitly represent the preacher's character and 
jjower. ■' It is," he said, " the last time I 
shall have the unspeakable privilege of 
preaching the gospel in England. I have 
never enjoyed preaching so much as I have 
in this country." " Have another week," 
shouted a man. " I want to have you all 
saved t(Miight," said Mr. Moody, looking 



466 



GREAT AWAKENING IN THE RELIGIOUS WORLD. 




Ki;vi\ ^L MEETING IN IIKOUKLVN, CONDOCTED BV MESSRS. MOODY AND SANKEV. 



toward the speaker. " If I were to stay 
another week, I could tell you no more. I 
have not told you a hundredth part of the 
story, but I have done the best I can with 
this stammering tongue. I don't want to 
close this meeting until I see you safe 
behind the walls of the city of refuge. 
During the past thirty days I have been 
preaching here, I have tried to allure 
j-ou away to that world of light. I have 
told you of hell to warn you, and I have 
told you of the love of God. To-night I 
have been trying to illustrate salvation. 
You can receive Christ and be saved, or 
reject him and be lost. By-and-by there 
will be a glorious future, and I want to 
know how many there are willing to join 
me for eternity. How many will stand up 
here before God and man, and say, by that 
act, you will join me for heaven ? Those 
who are willing to do so to-night, will you 
just rise ? '"' Multitudes rose to their feet. 



Of this remarkable European tour of the 
evangelists, one of them afterwards said, 
" I remember when we left home, not 
knowing what was before us. We landed 
in Liverpool, and found the friends who 
invited us over both dead. We were 
strangers, but God led us ; His Spirit 
directed us up to a dead town, where we 
held a prayer-meeting, at which, at first, 
there were hut four 2}ersons 2}resent. After- 
ward more came. People thought we were 
two Americans with sinister designs. The 
meetings, however, increased in interest 
and power, and then the work began." 

In due time, after returning to this 
countrj', the evangelists commenced their 
public labors, selecting Brooklyn, N. Y., 
as their first field. No church edifice, 
however, in that city, having the seating 
capacity to accommodate the throng of 
people who desired to listen to Mr. Moody's 
powerful exhortations and Mr. Sankey'a 



GKEAT AWAKENING IN THE RELIGIOUS WORLD. 



467 



singing, the large structure known as the 
rink, on Clermont avenue, was fitted up 
for this purpose. It accommodated five 
thousand persons. The interior of this 
vast building, as viewed from the platform, 
a large semi-circular dais, was in the high- 
est degree inspiring. Mr. Moody's posi- 
tion, when speaking, was at the center of 
this platform, in front; on his left were 
seats for visiting clergj'men; on his right, 
in front, was Mr. Sankey's position, at a 
small organ, on which he played the ac- 
companiment to his admirable rendering 
of the hymns which formed such a marked 
and helpful feature of these services. It 
was in this rink, that, day after day and 
night after night, for successive weeks, 
dense throngs assembled, and discourse, 
song, and prayer united to bring thousands 
of hearts to religious consecration. Out- 
door meetings, as well as meetings in the 
neighboring churches, were also held daily, 
with the most beneficial results, the pastors 
joining heartily in the work, — and, in 
fact, all over the land, the stimulus to 
renewed zeal and activity in spiritual 
things, received from this source, was 
most decided. 

Commencing in Brooklyn, October 24th, 
and continuing some weeks, only a brief 
interval elapsed before the revivalists com- 
menced their labors in Philadelphia, 
namely, on Sunday morning, November 
21st, the meetings being held in the old 
freight depot, at Thirteenth and Market 
streets, which had been fitted up for this 
use. The inclemency of the weather did 
not prevent the assembling of at least ten 
thousand' persons at the opening services, 
including hundreds of prominent persons. 
Indeed, long before the hour of opening, 
the streets leading to the building were 
alive with people of every age and condi- 
tion, and of both sexes ; thousands came 
by the various lines of passenger railway 
running by or near the spot, and other 
thousands wended their way thither on 
foot, many of them coming weary dis- 
tances. Within the building, the sight of 
such a vast sea of humanity — now eager to 
catch the earnest words of the speaker, 



and, again, with heads bowed in solemn 
prayer — was most impressive ; nor was 
it less so, when, under Mr. Sankey's in- 
spiring leadership, the joyous multitude 
united in singing those sweet and favorite 
songs, "Hold the Fort," "The Ninety and 
Nine," " Jesus of Nazareth Passeth by,' 
etc. The interest and enthusiasm in these 
meetings continued without abatement for 
consecutive weeks, not the least interested 
among the attendants, during one of the 
December sessions, being President Grant, 
with members of his cabinet. 

New York city was the next field of 
labor chosen by the evangelists, the hippo- 
drome being chosen by the Young Men's 
Christian Association of that city, for the 
meetings, the opening one taking place 
February 4, 1876. Both halls, the larger 
containing seven thousand persons, and 
the smaller, containing four thousand 
were filled, and several thousand persons 
more stood outside. Distinguished preach- 
ers occupied the platform ; a choir of 
twelve hundred voices conducted the sing- 
ing; Mr. Moody preached with great 
power; and the spectacle altogether was 
truly sublime. Mr. Sankey carried all 
hearts with him while he sang "Hold the 
Fort," the people joining in the chorus. 
There was not only no diminution in 
enthusiasm or attendance while the meet- 
ings were in jiirogress, but rain and storm 
offered no obstacle to the pressing throngs. 
Mr. Moody gained favor constantly by the 
judicious judgment which he showed in 
his management both of the people and 
himself ; and when, on one occasion, he 
said, " I want no false excitement," the 
expressions of approval were unmistaka- 
ble. On Sunday, February 13th, the en 
tire attendance was estimated to be fronj 
twenty to twenty-five thousand ; even as 
early as eight o'clock, A. M., at a special 
meeting for Christians, the admission 
being by ticket, over four thousand per- 
sons were present; at three o'clock, p. m., 
a meeting specially for women was at- 
tended by more than six thousand of them ; 
and in the evening, when men alone were 
admitted, the audience numbered some ten 



468 GREAT AWAIiENING IN THE EELIGIOUS \\'ORLD. 



thousand. At all these services the order 
was perfect, and all hearts seemed in 
accord. Though a Eoman Catholic, Dom 
PeJio, emperor of Brazil, being in the 
city on his American tour, during the 
holding of the meetings, became an audi- 
tor, and was not only deeply moved bj 



such a vast and unusual spectacle, but 
expressed his admiration of Mr. Moody's 
fervid preaching and Mr. Sankey's beauti- 
ful songs. The New York meetings were 
succeeded by visits from the evangelists to 
the south and west, with the most benefi- 
cial results. 



LTir. 

POLITICAL DEBATE BETWEEN ABRAHAM LINCOLN AND 
STEPHEN A. DOUGLAS, IN ILLINOIS.— 1858. 



Cause of this Remarkable Oratorical Contest. — Intense Interest in All Parts of the Land. — ^the Heart of 
Every American Citizen Enlisted in the Momentous Issue Involved. — Eminent Character of the Com- 
batants. — their Extraordinary Ability and Eloquence Universally Acknowledged. — the Discussions 
Attended by Friends and Foes. — Victory, Defeat, Life and Death. — Condition of the New Territories. — 
Form of Constitution to be Decided. — Domestic Institutions : Slavery. — Mr. Douglas Advocates " Popu- 
lar Sovereignty." — " Prohibition" Urged by Mr. Lincoln. — National Importance of the Question. — The 
Public Mind Divided. — Joint Debates Proposed. — Agreement between the two Leaders. — Personal Ap- 
pearance and Style. — Plans, I'laces, Scenes. — Theories and Arguments Advanced. — Skill and Adroit- 
ness of the Disputants. — Immense Concourses. — Result Impartially Stated. — Mr. Douglas Re-elected 
Senator. — Mr. Lincoln Nominated for President. — His Election to that Office. — Douglas' Magnanimity. 
— The Olive Branch. — Shoulder to Shoulder as Unionists. — Sudden Decease of the Great Senator. 



■ ? T^?iTd Lincoln as a kind, nmioble, •nd Intelligent ccnllemQn. a pood citizen, and an honorable opponcnt.**-.JllDaB DOUOLXS. 
' Thu man who itumpi a Stale with Stepiien A. Uou^iaB, iind tni ct3 him, day after day, before the people, haa pot to lie no fool." 

U>lBAl-l£ tiaEELliy. 



T 



HE tremendous political excitement -nhich convulsed the nation in 1858, 
^ growing out of the agitation of tlie slavery 

question, in its relation to the vast terri- 
tories of Kansas and Nebraska, found two 
of the most able and conspicuous men 
in the great west, and especially Illinois, 
pitted against each other in the discussion 
of that issue, — representing, respectively, 
the two prevailing political parties in pub- 
lic affairs, — and the interest created by 
this fact throughout that region, and, in- 
deed, from one end of the whole land to 
the other, was still farther heightened by 
those two gentlemen being not only candi- 
dates — the one of the democratic and the 
other of the anti-slavery party — for the 
senatorial seat of that State in the capitol 
at Washington, but their names were also 
looming up in the near presidential horizon of 1860. 

The question at issue was immense — permanent not transient — universal not local, 




STATE CAPITOL OF ILLINOIS. 



470 



DEBATE BETWEEN LINCOLN AND DOUGLAS. 



and the debate attracted profound atten- 
tion on the part of the people, whether 
democratic or free soil, from the Kennebec 
to the Rio Grande. Briefly stated, Mr. 
Douglas took the position in this contro- 
versy, that the vote of a majority of the 



man were closely scanned. Finally, after 
the true western style, a joint discussion, 
face to face, between Lincoln and Douglas, 
as the two great representative leaders, 
was proposed and agreed to, — seven public 
debates, one each at Ottawa, Freeport, 




DEli.4TK BETWEE.X LINCOLN AND DOUGLAS. 



people of a territory should decide this as 
well as all other questions concerning their 
domestic or internal affairs, and this theory 
came to be known as that of " Popular 
Sovereignty." Mr. Lincoln, on the con- 
trary, urged in substance, the necessity 
of an organic enactment excluding slavery 
in any form, — this latter to be the condi- 
tion of its admission into the Union as a 
St.ate. 

Tlie public mind was divided, and the 
utterances and movements of every public 



Jonesboro', Charleston, Galesburg, Quincy, 
and Alton, — the seven oratorical tourna- 
ments being thus held in all quarters ut 
the state, from the extreme of one point 
of the compass to the extreme of the op- 
posite, and everywhere the different par- 
ties turned out to do honor to their cham- 
pions. Processions and cavalcades, bands 
of music and cannon-firing, made every 
day a day of excitement. But far greater 
was the excitement of such oratorical con- 
tests between two such skilled debaters, 



DEBATE BETWEEN LINCOLN AND DOUGLAS. 



471 



before mixed audiences of friends and foes, 
to rejoice over every keen thrust at the 
adversary, and, again, to be cast down by 
each failure to " give back as good," or to 
jiarry the tlirust so aimed. 

In person, appearance, voice, gesture, 
and general platform style and imjiros- 
sion, nothingcould exceed the dissimilarity 
of these two speakers. Mr. Douglas 
possessed a natural build or frame and 
physique uncommonly attractive, — a pres- 
ence which would have gained for him 
access to the highest circles, however 
courtl}', in any land; a thick-set, finely- 
built, courageous man, with an air, as 
natural to him as his breath, of self-con- 
fidence that did not a little to inspire his 
supporters with hope. That he was every 
inch a man, no friend or foe ever ques- 
tioned. Eeady, forceful, animated, keen 
and trenchant, as well as playful, by turns, 
and thoroughly unartificial, he was one of 
the most admirable platform speakers that 
ever appeared before an American audi- 
ence, — his personal geniality, too, being 
so abounding, that, excepting in a polit- 
ical sense, no antagonism existed between 
him and his opponent. 

Mr. Lincoln's personal appearance was 
in unique contrast with that presented by 
Mr. Douglas. He stood about six feet 
and four inches high in his stockings ; 
long, lean, and wiry; in motion, he had a 
great deal of the elasticity and awkward- 
ness which indicated the rough training 
of his early life ; his face genial looking, 
with good humor lurking in every corner 
of its innumerable angles. As a speaker 
he was ready, precise, fluent, and his man- 
ner before a popular assembly was just as 
lie pleased to make it, being either superla- 
tively ludicrous, or very impressive. He 
employed but little gesticulation, but, 
when desiring to make a point, produced 
ft shrug of the shoulders, an elevation of 
his eyebrows, a depression of his mouth, 
and a general malformation of countenance 
so comicallj' awkward that it never failed 
to ' bring down the house.' His enuncia- 
tion was slow and emphatic, and his voice, 
though sharp and powerful, at times had 



a tendency to dwindle into a shrill and 
unpleasant sound. In this matter of voice 
and of commanding attitude, so as to af- 
fect the multitude, the odds were quite in 
favor of Mr. Douglas. 

The arrangements, places, etc., for the 
great debate, having, as already remarked, 
been perfected, the first discussion took 
place, August 21st, at Ottawa, in La Salle 
county, a strong republican district. The 
crowd in attendance was a large one, and 
about equally divided in political senti- 
ment — the enthusiasm of the democracy 
having brought out more than a due pro- 
portion, if anything, of that party, to hear 
and see their favorite leader, Douglas. 
His thrilling tones, his manly defiance to- 
wards the enemies of the party, assured 
his friends, if any assurance were wanting, 
that he was the same unconquered and 
unconquerable democrat that for twenty- 
five j'cars he had proved to be. Douglas 
opened the discussion and spoke one hour ; 
Lincoln followed, the time assigned him 
being an hour and a half, though he 
yielded a portion of it before the expira- 
tion of its limit. 

In this first debate, Mr. Douglas ar- 
raigned his opponent for the expression 
in a former speech of " a house divided 
against itself," etc., — referring to the 
slavery and anti-slavery sections of the 
country ; and Mr. Lincoln reiterated and 
defended his assertions on that subject. 
It was not until the second meeting, how- 
ever, and those held subsequently, that 
the debaters grappled with those profound 
constitutional questions and measures of 
administration which were so soon to con- 
vulse the whole land and cause it to stag- 
ger almost to the verge of destruction. 
But, as Mr. Lincoln's jiosition in relation 
to one or two points growing out of the 
former speech referred to had attracted 
great attention throughout the country, 
he availed himself of the opportunity of 
this preliminary meeting to reply to what 
he regarded as common misconceptions. 
'Anything,' he said, ' that argues me into 
the idea of perfect social and political 
equality with the negro, is but a specious 



472 



DEBATE BETWEEN LINCOLN AND DOUGLAS. 



and fantastic arrangement of -words, by 
which a man can prove a liorse-chestnxit 
to be a chestnut horse. I will say here, 
while upon this subject, that I have no 
purpose, directly or indirectly, to interfere 
with the institution of slavery in the 
states where it now exists. I believe I 
have no lawful right to do so, and I have 
no inclination to do so. I have no pur- 
pose to introduce political and social 
equality between the white and the black 
races. There is a physical difference be- 
tween the two, which, in my judgment, 
will probably forever forbid their living 
together upon a footing of perfect equal- 
ity, and inasmuch as it becomes a matter 
of necessity that there must be a differ- 
ence, I, as well as Judge Douglas, am in 
favor of the race to which I belong having 
the superior position. I have never said 
anything to the contrary, but I hold that, 
notwithstanding all this, there is no rea- 
son in the world w^hy the negro is not en- 
titled to all the natural rights enumerated 
in the Declaration of Independence — the 
right to life, libert}', and the pursuits of 
happiness. I hold that he is as much en- 
titled to these as the white man. I agree 
with Judge Douglas he is not my equal in 
many respects — certainly not in color, 
perhaps not in moral or intellectual en- 
dowment. But, in the right to eat the 
bread, without the leave of any one else, 
which his own hand earns, he is my equal, 
and the equal of Judge Douglas, and the 
equal of every living man.' 

Touching the question of respect or 
weight of opinion due to deliverances of 
the United States Supreme Court, — an 
element which entered largely into this 
national contest, — Mr. Lincoln said : 
' This man sticks to a decision which for- 
bids the people of a territory from exclud- 
ing slavery, and he does so not because he 
says it is right in itself — he does not give 
any opinion on that, — but because it has 
been decided by the court, and being de- 
cided by the court, he is, and you are 
bound to take it in your political action 
as law ; not that he judges at all of its 
merits, but because a decision of the court 



is to him a ' Thus saith the Lord.' He 
places it on that ground alone, and you 
will bear in mind that, thus committing 
himself unreservedly to this decision, com- 
mits him to the next one just as firmly as 
to this. He did not commit himself on 
account of the merit or demerit of the de- 
cision, but it is a ' Thus saith the Lord.' 
The next decision, as much as this, will 
be a ' Thus saith the Lord.' There is 
nothing that can divert or turn him away 
from this decision. It is nothing that I 
point out to him that his great prototype, 
Gen Jackson, did not believe in the 
binding force of deci>ions, — it is nothing 
to him that Jefferson did not so be- 
lieve. I have said that I have often heard 
him approve of Jackson's course in disre- 
garding the decision of the Supreme Court 
pronouncing a National Bank unconstitu- 
tional. He says I did not hear him say 
so; he denies the accuracy of my recollec- 
tion. I say he ought to know better than 
I, but I will make no question about this 
thing, though it still seems to me that I 
heard him say it twenty times. I will 
tell him though, that he now claims to 
stand on the Cincinnati platform, which 
affirms that Congress canvot charter a 
National Bank, in the teeth of that old 
standing decision that Congress can char- 
ter a bank. And I remind him of another 
piece of history on the question of respect 
for judicial decisions, and it is a piece of 
Illinois history belonging to a time when 
the large party to which Judge Douglas be- 
longed were displeased with a decision of 
the Supreme Court of Illinois, because 
they had decided that a Governor could 
not remove a Secretary of State. I know 
that Judge Douglas will not deny that he 
was then in favor of overslaughing that 
decision by the mode of adding five new- 
judges, so as to vote down the four old 
ones. Not only so, but it ended in the 
Judge's sitting down on that very bench 
as one of the five new judges to break down 
the four old ones'. In this strain Mr. 
Lincoln occupied most of his time. 

But, if the opponents of Judge Douglas 
wtre elated at the animated effort put 



DEBATE BETWEEN LINCOLN AND DOUGLAS. 



473 



forth by his rival, at Ottawa, the debate 
which followed at Freeport gave ample op- 
portunity for the Judge to exhibit his 
great intellectual prowess, nor did he fail 
to improve it. 

At this meeting, Mr. Lincoln pro- 
pounded certain questions, and to these 
prompt and vigorous response was made. 
' He desires to know, If the people of 
Kansas shall form a Constitution by 
means entirely proper and unobjectionable, 
and ask admission into the Union as a 
state before they have the requisite popu- 
lation for a member of Congress, whether 
I will vote for that admission ? Well, 
now, I regret exceeding!}' that he did not 
answer that interrogatory himself before 
he put it to me, in order that we might 
understand, and not be left to infer, on 
which side he is. Mr. Trumbull, during 
the last session of Congress, voted from 
the beginning to the end against the ad- 
mission of Oregon, although a free state, 
because she had not the requisite popula- 
tion for a member of Congress. Mr. 
Trumbull would not, under .any circum- 
stances, consent to let a state, free or 
slave, come into the Union until it had 
the requisite population. As Mr. Trum- 
bull is in the field fighting for Mr. Lin- 
coln, I would like to have Mr. Lincoln 
answer his own question, and tell me 
whether he is fighting Trumbull on that 
issue or not. But I will answer his ques- 
tion. In reference to Kansas, it is my 
opinion that, as she has population enough 
to constitute a slave state, she has people 
enough for a free state. I will not make 
Kansas an exceptional case to the other 
states of the Union. I hold it to be a 
sound rule, of universal application, to re- 
quire a territory to contain the requisite 
population for a member of Congress be- 
fore it is admitted as a state into the 
Union. I made that proposition in the 
Senate in 1856, and I renewed it during 
the last session, in a bill providing that no 
territory of the United States should form 
a Constitution and apply for admission 
until it had the requisite population. On 
another occasion, I proposed that neither 



Kansas, nor any other territory, should be 
admitted until it had the requisite popula- 
tion. Congress did not adopt any of my 
propositions containing this general rule, 
but did make an exception of Kansas. I 
will stand by that exception. Either 
Kansas must come in as a free state, with 
whatever population she may have, or the 
rule must be applied to all the other ter- 
ritories alike.' 

Mr. Douglas next proceeded to answer 
another question proposed by Mr. Lincoln, 
namely. Whether the people of a territory 
can in any lawful way, against the wishes 
of any citizen of the United States, ex- 
clude slavery from their limits prior to the 
formation of a state Constitution. Said 
Mr. Douglas : ' I answer emphatically, 
as Mr. Lincoln has heard me answer a 
hundred times from every stump in Illi- 
nois, that in my opinion the people of a 
territory can, by lawful means, exclude 
slavery from their limits prior to the forma- 
tion of a state Constitution. .Mr. Lincoln 
knew that I had answered that question 
over and over again. He heard me argue 
the Nebraska Bill on that principle all over 
the state in 1854, in 1855, and in 1856, and 
he has no excuse for pretending to be in 
doubt as to my position on that question. 
It matters not what way the Supreme 
Court may hereafter decide as to the ab- 
stract question whether slavery may or 
may not go into a territory under the Con- 
stitution, the people have the lawful means 
to introduce it or exclude it as they please, 
for the reason that slavery cannot exist a 
day or an hour unless it is supported by 
local police regulations Those police 
regulations can only be established by tho 
local legislature, and if the people are op- 
posed to slavery they will elect representa- 
tives to that body who will, by unfriendly 
legislation, effectually prevent the intro- 
duction of it into their midst. If, on the 
contrary, they are for it, their legislation 
will favor its extension. Hence, no mat- 
ter what the decision of the Supreme Court 
may be on that abstract question, still the 
right of the people to make a slave terri- 
tory or a free territory is perfect and com- 



474 



DEBATE BETWEEN LINCOLN" AND DOUGLAS. 



plete under the Nebraska Bill.' This 
right or freedom of the people thus to act, 
and which Mr. Douglas so strenuously ad- 
vocated, was commonly termed ' Popular 
Sovereigntj',' and, as one of the battle- 
cries in the great contests, was most ef- 
fectively used. 

One of the most interesting features of 
this memorable debate, covering as it did 
ahnost the whole issue involved in the 
canvass, consisted of the following inter- 
rogatories propounded by Mr. Douglas, 
and Mr Lincoln's replies: — 

Mr. Douglas : I desire to know whether 
Lincoln to-day stands, as he did in 1854, 
in favor of the unconditional repeal of the 
Fugitive Slave law ? 

Mr. Lincoln : I do not now, nor ever 
did, stand in favor of the unconditional 
repeal of the Fugitive Slave law. 

Mr. Douglas : I desire him to answer 
whether he stands pledged to-day, as he 
did in 1854, against the admission of any 
more slave states into the Union, even if 
the people want them ? 

Jlr. Lincoln : I do not now, or ever 
did, stand pledged against the admission 
of any more slave states into the Union. 

Mr. Douglas : I want to know whether 
he stands pledged against the admission 
of a new state into the Union with such a 
Constitution as the people of that state 
may see fit to make ? 

Mr. Lincoln : I do not stand pledged 
against the admission of a new state into 
the Union, with such a Constitution as 
the people of that state may see fit to 
make. 

Mr. Douglas: I want to know whether 
he stands to-day pledged to the abolition 
of slavery in the District of Columbia ? 

Mr. Lincoln : I do not stand to-day 
pledged to the abolition of slavery in the 
District of Columbia. 

Mr. Douglas : I desire him to answer 
whether he stands pledged to the proliibi- 
tion of the slave-trade between the differ- 
ent states ? 

Mr. Lincoln : I do not stand pledged 
to the prohibition of the slave-trade be- 
tween the different states. 



Mr. Douglas : I desire to know whether 
he stands pledged to prohibit slavery in 
all the territories of the United States, 
North as well as South of the Missouri 
Compromise line ? 

Mr. Lincoln : I am impliedly, if not 
expressly, pledged to a belief in the riglii 
and Jutij of Congress to prohibit slavery 
in all the United States territories. 

Mr. Douglas : I desire him to answer 
whether he is opposed to the acquisition 
of any new territory unless slavery is first 
prohibited therein ? 

Mr. Lincoln : I am not generally op- 
posed to honest acquisition of territory ; 
and, in any given case, I would or would 
not oppose such acquisition, according as 
I might think such acquisition would or 
would not aggravate the slavery question 
among ourselves. 

It was with great vigor and adroitness 
that the two distinguished combatants 
went over the ground covered by the above 
questions, at the remaining five places of 
debate, all of which were attended and 




listened to by immense concourses. On 
both sides the speeches were able, elo- 
quent, exhaustive. It was admitted by 
Lincoln's friends, that, on several occa- 
sions, he was partly foiled or, at least, 
badly bothered, while, on the other hand, 



DEBATE BETWEEN LINCOLN AND DOUGLAS. 



475 



Douglas' admirers allowed that, in more 
than one instance, he was flatlj" and fairly 
floored by Lincoln's logic, wit, good hu- 
mor and frankness. Douglas, while more 
brusque and resolute, was also rather the 
superior of the two in a certain force, direct- 
ness and determination, that greatly helped 
his side. But it was, altogether, about an 
equal match in respect to the ability di.s- 
played by these foremost champions. Both 
of them were self-made men ; both of 
them able lawyers and politicians ; both 
sprang from obscurity to distinction ; both 
belonged to the common people ; and both 
were strong and popular with the masses. 
The portrait which we give of Mr. Doug- 
las (Mr. Lincoln's will be found in another 
part of this volume) represents him at this 
victorious stage in his career. 

As for the result, Lincoln took more of 
the popular vote than Douglas, but the 
latter secured a majority in the legislature, 
— sufficient to insure his re-election to the 
United States senate, and this majority 



would probably have been greater, but for 
the hostility towards him of a certain por- 
tion of his own party, who favored a more 
thorough southern or pro-slavery policy 
than Douglas would consent to. 

In May, 1860, the Eepublican Nomi- 
nating Convention met at Chicago, 111., and 
after successive ballots, Mr. Lincoln was 
chosen standard-bearer of the party in the 
presidential contest. His election followed 
in November ensuing. Mr. Douglas failed 
of a nomination at the Democratic conven- 
tion. Secession raised its gory front. 
Forgetting past differences, Douglas mag- 
nanimously stood shoulder to shoulder 
with Lincoln in lieh.alf of the Union. It 
was the olive branch of genuine patriotism. 
But, while proudly holding aloft the ban- 
ner of his country in the councils of the 
nation, and while yet the blood of his 
countrymen had not drenched the land, 
the great senator was suddenly stricken 
from among the living, in the hour of the 
republic's greatest need. 



LYIII. 
PETROLEUM EXCITEMENT IN PENNSYLVANIA.— 1859. 



Discovery of Prodigious Quantities of IlluminBting Oil in the Depths of the Earth. — Boring of Innu- 
merable Wells. — Fabulous Prices Paid for Lands. — Poor Farmers Become Millionaires — The Supply 
of Oil Exceeds the Wants of the Whole Country. — Immense Kxportations of the Article. — Vast 
Source of National Wealth and Industry. — Revolution in Artificial Light — Ancient Knowledge of 
this Oil — Floating on Ponds and Creeks — Its Collection and Use. — Native Sources : Origin. — Local- 
ity of the Springs — Great Value of the Oii — First Attempt at Boring. — Plans for Sinking Wells. — 
Their Exhaustless Yield — Intense Excitement Prevails — Eager Crowds at the Oil Region. — Buying 
and Leasing Lands. — Enterprise of the Pioneers. — Sudden Fortunes Made — Other Side of the Pic- 
ture. — Towns and Cities Built — Fire: Awful Scenes and Losses — Bringing the Oil into Market. — 
Its Cheapness and Excellence. — Universal Introduction. — Valuable for Various Purposes. 



" The rock i>oufed me out rivers of oil."— Job. 



>^ICHER than the gold mines of California, in the qualities of 
<^r\ usefulness and convenience to the human race, are the oil 
wells which, so unexjjectedly to the country 
and the world, spouted forth their liquid 
treasures from the bowels of the earth, in the 
year 1859, and in such quantities as soon to 
revolutionize both the material and mode of 
artificial illumination, — bringing untold 
wealth into regions hitherto comparatively 
valueless, — creating, almost as if by magic, 
new, vast, and profitable industries, — and 
well-nigh realizing the wildest conceptions of 
sudden and golden fortune found in Arabian 
legends. 
But, even long prior to the year just named, the existence of this 
oleaginous substance was known at the head-waters of the Alleghany 
_ river in New York and Pennsylvania. A writer in the American 

Cyclopedia states that the Indians collected it on the shores of Seneca 
lake, and it was sold as a medicine by the name of Seneca or Genesee oil. A stream in 
Alleghany county, New York, was named Oil creek, in consequence of the appearance 
of oil in its banks ; and the same name was given to another branch of the Alleghany 
river in Venango county, Pennsylvania. Several localities are designated upon the old 
maps of this part of the country as affording oil ; and upon Oil creek in Venango 
county, two spots were particularly noted, one of which was close to the north line of the 
county, and one about twelve miles further down the stream. At these points, springs 




PETROLEUM EXCITEMENT IN PENNSYLVANIA. 



477 



issuoJ from the banks of the stream, bring- 
ing up more or less oil, which collected 
upon the surface of the water as it stood 
in the pools below the springs. The 
inhabitants were accustomed to collect the 
oil by spreading woolen cloths upoa the 
water, and wringing them when saturated. 
Down the valley of this creek there are 
numerous ancient pits which appear to 
have been excavated for the purpose of 
collecting oil, but by whom made no one 
can now tell. From the fact that logs have 
been found in them notched as if with an 
axe, some have supposed that the work was 
done by the French, who occupied this 
region in the early part of the last century ; 
but others believe that the Indians, who 
are known to have valued the oil, dug the 
pits. Day, in his historj' of Pennsylvania, 
gives an account of the estimation in which 
they held this product, using it mixed with 
paint to anoint themselves for war, and 
also employing it in their religious rites. 
He quotes an interesting letter from the 
commander of Fort Duquesne to General 
Montcalm, describing an assembly of the 
Indians by night on the banks of the creek, 
and in the midst of the ceremonies their 
firing the scum of oil that had collected 
upon the surface of the water. As the 
flames burst forth, illuminating the dark 
valley, there rose from the Indians around 
triumphant shouts that made the hills 
re-echo again. 

As early as 1826, the knowledge that 
such a natural illuminating substance ex- 
isted on the Little Muskingum river, in 
Ohio, was quite general, on account of its 
appearance in the wells that were bored in 
that region for the purpose of obtaining 
salt. In a communication to the American 
Journal of Science for the year 1826, by 
Doctor Hildreth, he says : They have sunk 
two wells, which are now more than four 
hundred feet in depth ; one of them affords 
a very strong and pure water, but not in 
great quanti ty. The other discharges such 
vast quantities of petroleum, or, as it is 
vulgarly called, ' Seneka oil,' and beside is 
subject to such tremendous explosions of 
gas as to force out all the water and afford 



nothing but gas for several days, that they 
make but little or no salt. Nevertheless, 
the petroleum affords considerable profit, 
and is beginning to be in demand for lamps 
in workshops and manufactories. It affords 
a brisk, clear light, when burnt in this way, 
and will be a valuable article for lighting 
the street-lamjjs in the future cities of 
Ohio. 

So useful was the product of the oil 
springs gradually found to be, that, in 
1854, the Pennsylvania Rock Oil Company 
was formed. It is said, by a writer 
thoroughly conversant with the subject, 
and from whose well-stored pamphlet, 
"The Petroleum Region of America," 
much of the information here given is 
drawn, that this was the first oil company 
ever formed, and was also prior to the sink- 
ing of any well, and before any such thing 
was suggested. Great quantities of the 
oil had, however, been collected during the 
year 1853, by absorbing it in blankets, 
and wringing it out, — a method originated 
by Dr. F. B. Brewer, of the eminent firm 
of Brewer, Watson & Co., so conspicuous 
in their efforts to develop the wonderful 
resources of the oil region. The Pennsyl- 
vania Rock Oil Company purchased one 
hundred acres of land on Oil Creek, below 
Titusville, for the purpose of collecting 
ths surface oil, but the project was in a 
short time abandoned. 

No important progress took place in the 
business until the winter of 1857, when 
Col. E. L. Drake, of Connecticut, arrived 
at Titusville, and he tva^ the first man who 
attempted to bore for oil. In December, 
1857, he visited Titusville, examined the 
oil springs, and gave the subject of sur- 
face oil a thorough investigation. He 
soon concluded that rock oil could be ob- 
tained by sinking a well ; and acting upon 
this, he, in company with James M. Town- 
send and E. B. Bowditch, leased the lands 
of the Pennsylvania Eock Oil Company, 
for the term of twenty-five years, for the 
purpose of boring for oil. The operations 
were to commence the following spring. 
Soon after closing this lease. Colonel 
Drake and friends from Connecticut formed 



478 



PETROLEUM EXCITEMENT IN PENNSYLVANIA. 



«, company called tlie Seneca Oil Company, 
for the purpose of working the lands and 
sinking wells, under the management and 
control of Colonel Drake. Early in the 
spring he removed his family to Titusville, 
then containing not over one hundred and 
fifty inhabitants. He first informed him- 
self thoroughly on the subject of boring, 
and visited the salt-wells on the Alleghany 
river for that purpose, where, after some 
difiScult^y, he emploj'ed a man who agreed 
to sink wells for the Seneca companj-; but 
he and others to whom he had applied 
failed to keep their engagements, and it 
was not until the following spring, that he 
could obtain a suitable person to commence 
the well. 



lying along the valley of Oil Creek and 
its tributaries in Venango, Warren, and 
Crawford counties. The Drake well — the 
first ever sunk for oil, and the first petro- 
leum ever obtained by boring — was Imme- 
diately thronged with visitors, and within 
two or three weeks thousands began to 
pour in from the neighboring states. 
Everybody was eager to purchase or lease 
oil-lands at any price demanded. Almost 
in a night, a wilderness of derricks sprang 
up and covered the entire bottom lands of 
Oil Creek. Merchants abandoned their 
storehouses, farmers dropped their ploughs, 
lawyers deserted their offices, and preach- 
ers their pulpits. The entire western 
part of the st;ite. in especial, became so 




PETROLEUM WELLS IN' lENNSVLVANIA. 



Boring through forty-seven feet of 
gravel and twenty-two feet of shale rocks, 
with occasional small apertures in it, he 
struck, on the twenty-ninth of August, 
1859, at the depth of about seventy feet, 
a large opening, filled with coal oil, some- 
what mixed with water and gas. A small 
pump on hand brought up from four 
hundred to five hundred gallons of oil 
a day. An explosion soon blew it up. 
One of three times its size and power 
was put in its place, and during the 
first four days threw up five thousand 
gallons of oil— one thousand two hundred 
and fifty gallons per day, or one gallon 
per minute for twenty hours fifty minutes 
per day. 

And now commenced an intense excite- 
ment in all the oil-region of Pennsylvania, 



wild with excitement upon the subject, 
that scarcely anything else was thought of. 
Very soon after the success of Colonel 
Drake, Messrs. Brewer, Watson & Co. 
leased the farm of Hamilton M'Clintock, 
and commenced a well on it, which was 
successful at the depth of seventy feet ; 
then followed the sinking of many wells on 
the different farms on Oil Creek. The 
Barnsdell Mead and Rouse well was 
opened in the spring of 1860; then the 
Crosley well, in April of the same year. 
During this summer, many wells were 
opened in the vicinity of Tideoute on the 
Alleghany river. In June, 1861, A. B. 
Funk sunk a well four hundred and sev- 
enty feet deep, on the M'lllheny farm, 
which was the first large flowing well. 
Then followed the Brewer, Watson & Co. 



PETROLEUM EXCITEMENT IN PENNSYLVANIA. 



479 



well on the G. W. M'Clintock farm, the 
Phillips well on the Tarrfarm, the Willard 
well on the H. M'Clintock farm, and the 
Rouse, Mitchell, and Brown well on the 
Buchanan farm. This latter well flowed a 
stream of oil without pumping, equal to 
one thousand barrels per day. In every 
direction, new borings were undertaken, 
and new discoveries of flowing wells were 
made, almost dailj' ; while other regions of 
similar geological structure were carefully 
explored for evidence of their capacity for 
producing oil. Soon there were oil-wells, 
— either pumping or flowing, — yielding 
considerable quantities, in Western Vir- 
ginia, Kentucky, Ohio, and Canada ; and, 
subsequentlj', discoveries were made of the 
existence of petroleum in large quantities 
in California and in some of the north- 
western states. At first, vast quantities 
of oil flowed into the creek 
and were wasted, before suit- 
able tanks could be prepared 
to receive it; but after a 
while, the flowing wells were 
fitted with strong tubing 
and stop-cocks, by means of 
which the supply was en- 
tirely controlled. 

As might well be expected, the owners 
of farms in the oil-regions believed that 
the fortune of almost unlimited wealth had 
now smiled upon them, and (says Eaton, 
in his exhaustive and invaluable work on 
the subject,) the price of lands throughout 
its whole extent, from the new well to the 
Alleghany, immediately rose to a very high 
figure. Sometimes entire farms were sold, 
but generally they were leased in quite 
small lots. The terms of lease were at 
first easy, the operators giving one-fourth 
or one-fifth of the oil as a royalty to the 
owner of the soil. Gradually, the terms 
became more exacting, until not unfre- 
quently one-half and even five-eighths of 
the oil was demanded, with the addition of 
a considerable sum of money as a bonus. 
Sometimes the proprietor of the soil re- 
quired the proposed operator to furnish 
him his share in barrels ; that is, not only 
turning him over a third or a half of the 



oil, but furnishing him the barrels to con- 
tain it. With this arrangement, it after- 
wards came about that, as the price of oil 
fell and the price of barrels advanced, the 
entire proceeds of some wells would hardly 
purchase barrels to contain the royalty 
share pertaining to the owner of the land. 
The leasing of land for oil purposes 
amounted, at one time, to a monopoly, in 





PKOCESS OF liOKIXG FOR PETKOLEUM. 

some sections of the oil valley. The land- 
holders in many places were men in very 
moderate circumstances. By great fru- 
gality, they had been able to live comfort- 
ably, but had no extra means with which 
to embark in speculations. Sometimes 
they had neither taste nor energy for this 
business, or lacked f.iith in the general 
result, but were willing that others should 
embark in the business by sharing the 



•iSU 



PETROLEUM EXCITEMENT IN PENNSYLVANIA. 



profits with them. In this state of affairs, 
shrewd and enterprising men made a busi- 
ness, for a time, of leasing all the lands in 
certain localities, with no intention of oper- 
ating themselves, but with the design of 
sub-leasing to real operators. 

In the midst of the excitement occa- 
sioned by the prodigious success of the 
Rouse well, the gas and oil issuing there- 
from took fire from some unknown cause, 
and, as described by an unknown witness, 
columns of black smoke rolled upward into 
the air, the blazing oil leaped heavenward, 
and, falling over on all sides from the fiery 
jet, formed a magnificent fountain of liquid 
fire. The sight was awfully grand, but, 
sad to relate, invoL-ed a most melancholy 
loss of life, no less ,'han nineteen human 
beings meeting theii death in the flames. 
The scenes of terror and woe accompany- 
ing such a catastrophe can be better imag- 
ined than described. Among the victims 
of this destructive occurrence was Mr. 
Rouse, one of th3 proprietors of the well 
and a very prominent man in the oil 
region. Mr. Rouse lived for several daj's 
after being injured, and, in framing his 
will, after making certain bequests, left to 
the county of Warren a handsome sum — 
subsequently' reaching one hundred and 
fifty thousand dollars in value, — to be 
applied one-half for road purposes and one- 
half to the poor of the county. 

Other terrible scenes caused by the com- 
bustion of the oil and gas in the wells, — 
of natural or accidental origin, — though 
happily not involving loss of life, have 
occurred from time to time in the oil 
regions. The phenomenon of the " burn- 
ing well" has been often described as one 
of those grand and amazing exhibitions to 
be found only within the arena of nature's 
kingdom. Before approaching near enough 
to see the well, (says an eye witness,) the 
observer's ears were saluted with a roaring 
sound similar to that of the Geysers in 
Iceland, and seemingly due to the rush of 
gas from the depths below, or from the 
flame itself as it rises high in the air. 
The well was of course bored for oii. It 
had reached a depth of some five hundred 



feet, when the immense column of gas 
rushed up and became ignited from the 
furnace of the engine. Soon, of course, 
the derrick, engine-house, and fixtures 
were consumed, and the engine itself a 
wreck. An attempt was made to fill up 
the pit with earth and extinguish the 
flames. But this proved a failure, as the 
pressure of the gas was so great that it 
rushed through the loose earth in a thou- 
sand jets, the result being that a column 
of flame constantly emerged from the pit 
equal to its size — about eight feet square; 
this column rose to a height of from fifty 
to one hundred feet, varj-ing every few 
seconds from the minimum to the maxi- 
mum height. The pillar, rough and jagged 
in form, and sometimes divided, sent out 
its tongues of flame in every direction. 
As it reached its greatest height, the top 
of the flame leaped off and was extin- 
guished. This was the appearance in 
daylight. At night, the appearance was 
awfully grand and imposing. Every three 
or four seconds, a cloud of dark smoke 
rolled up with the flames, and, after b^ing 
swept to its very summit, disappeared. 
Some visitors computed the height at one 
hundred and fifty feet. The roaring sound 
was constant, and almost resembled that 
of distant thunder. For successive weeks, 
the well continued to burn, with no appar- 
ent diminution in its power, or in the 
quantity of gas. At one time, the phe- 
nomenon assumed a very strange appear- 
ance. The atmosphere was somewhat 
cloudj', and, in addition to the usual ruddy 
glow, the light appeared to concentrate 
itself into a bright lance-like figure, about 
four or five degrees in length, that re- 
mained stationary about midway between 
the horizon and the zenith, where it con- 
tinued all the evening. Immense destruc- 
tion of oil and other property, by fire, has, 
in fact, taken place in almost every part ot 
the petroleum region, from the very first, 
and in spite of every precaution. 

The next large flowing well that was 
opened was the Empire, in the vicinity of 
the Funk we'l, that flowed three thousand 
barrels of oil per day. The Sherman well 



PETROLEUM EXCITEMENT IN PENNSYLVANIA. 



481 



was opened in April, 1862, then the Noble 
and Delameter well in May, 1863. . This 
celebrated well was commenced in 1860, 
and was bored to the depth of one hun- 
dred and sixty-seven feet, and then aban- 
doned. Mr. Noble went further down the 
creek and became interested iu other wells 
on the Tarr farm, but in the spring of 
1863 he re-commenced the work on his old 
well, and n'eut down to the depth of four 
hundred and seventy-one feet, without, 
however, any indications of oil. At that 
depth he concluded to tube and puiiip, 
abandoning the idea of obtaining a flowing 
well, — but, to the great astonishment of 
himself and every one else, after pumping 
a very short time, suddenly the great 
Noble well commenced to flow. Long 
before the opening of this well, petroleum 
bad become so plenty that most of the 
pumping wells were abandoned. Every 
person wanted a flowing well. 

The discovery of a method of refining the 
crude oil is said to be due to Mr. Samuel 
M. Kier, of Pittsburg. Mr.W. H. Abbott, 
of Titusville, erected the first large refin- 
ery at Titusville, which was before the 
days of railroads in that region. The 
heavy iron castings and machinery were 
brought in wagons from Union Mills and 
Franklin, through mud that was axle-deep. 
Parties interested with him became dis- 
heartened, and would have abandoned the 
enterprise had it not been for the energy 
of Mr. Abbott, who finally succeeded in 
completing his building. But the really 
great pioneers in the introduction of petro- 
leum in large quantities, were P>rewer, 
Watson & Co., whose enterprise was so 
determined and imtiring, that they ex- 
pended nearly eight hundred thousand 
dollars in cash for barrels alone, before 
they realized one cent of profit. All they 
required was the actual cost of the barrel. 
They however ultimately rea]5ed a rich 
harvest from their arduous efforts in this 
new field of business, and were handsomely 
repaid for the hardships and trials through 
which they had passed. During the sum- 
mer of 1861, Samuel Downer, of Boston, 
established a branch of his works and com- 



menced the refining of oil at Corry, giving 
his entire attention to the business, and 
during that year his refinery absorbed 
nearly all of the oil product. George M. 
Mowbray, agent for Scheifflin & Co., of 
New York, made the first extensive pur- 
chase of petroleum for shipment. Messrs. 
Drake, Watson, Brewer, Kier, Abbott, 
Jlowbray, Downer, the firm of Brewer, 
Watson & Co., and others, exerted their 
utmost endeavors to acquaint the public 
with the value of the article, and to create 
a demand equal to the supply ; but before 
this could be accomplished, oil at the wells 
was offered for sale at prices ranging from 
ten to fifty cents a barrel. 

In consequence of the abundant supply 
of the oil, its cheapness, and the continued 
small demand, the entire oil regions of 
Pennsylvania, Virginia, and Ohio became, 
for a while, almost wholly deserted, and 
the then so-called " oil bubble " exploded. 
Most of those who had taken leases and 
had opened wells, now removed the tubing, 
sold their engines, tools, etc., and retired 
from the oil trade disgusted with their 
enterprise, and, no doubt, much displeased 
with themselves, returned to their deserted 
homes to be ridiculed bj^ the knowing 
ones, who "always said the undertaking 
would prove a failure." 

Much time, however, did not elapse 
before a new demand for petroleum was 
created, and once more thousands poured 
into the oil regions, and ultimately the 
use of petrolemn became almost universal, 
as a cheap and excellent cil for Inirning. 
So vast did the business now become, that, 
from the third of March, 1865, to the close 
of that year, the quantity of crude petro- 
leum produced in the Venango countj' 
region was 1,020,126 barrels; in western 
Virginia, 13,066; in Ohio, 10,676; in 
Kentucky, 2,405. The trade involved in 
this immense production became the most 
important business of several cities in 
Pennsylvania, Ohio, and New York, af- 
fording emploj-ment and support for tens 
of thousands of people. 

An immense export trade soon began, 
amounting, in 1863, to 252,000 tons' 



482 



PETROLEUM EXCITEMENT IX PENNSYLVANIA. 




BURKINO OF ONE OF THE GREAT OIL WELL8. 



weight, or 28,000,000 gallons, valued at 
$12,000,000, and emijloying no less than 
252 vessels of one thousand tons burden. 
Of course, many hitherto comparatively 
poor persons became millionaires all of a 
sudden, and of these, "some were wise and 
some foolish," in the use of their wealth. 

An illustration of the latter class was 
that of a widow, whose farm proved to be 
one of the earliest and best for the produc- 
tion of oil, in the whole county of Venango, 
several wells with products ranging from 
two hundred to twenty-five hundred bar- 
rels per day being struck at intervals, and 
the income in money from the territory 
proving almost fabulous in amount. The 
old lady did not live long to enjoy her 
good fortune, and, dying, left her great 
property, without any reservation, to her 
adopted son John, then about twenty years 
old. This youth, — like the hero of that 
well-known novel, " Half a Million of 
Money," who came suddenly into posses- 
sion of a like sum, — had not been taught 
to understand the value of dollars and 
cents ; and, unlike that character, he had 



no refined tastes, and threw his wealth 
away with the most lavish folly. Of 
course he rushed to New York ; and there, 
in only a year and a half, he squandered 
two millions of dollars. Presumably the 
most ingenious extravagance was neces- 
sary to accomplish this enormous result. 
"Johnny," as his associates called him, 
not only entered into every species of 
debauchery, not only lost a hundred thou- 
sand dollars in two nights at faro, but 
bought superb teams and gave them away 
after an hour's ownership, supported a 
swarm of human leeches of both sexes, and 
even equipped a negro-minstrel troupe, 
presenting each member with a costly dia- 
mond ring and pin. By-and-by, however, 
Johnny's brilliant career came to a close, 
and, oddly enough, he was glad at last to 
fill the position of door-keeper to the trav- 
eling minjtrel company which his own 
munificence had organized, — his farm on 
Oil Creek having been disposed of at public 
s.ile, for arrears due the government. 

Time and space would indeed fail to 
adequately record the doings of those sham 



PETROLEUM EXCITEMENT IN PENNSYLVANIA. 



483 



and reckless companies, which, availing 
themselves of the oleaginous fever and a 
credulous public, involved themselves and 
others in operations well-nigh ruinous. 
One of these companies selected a site in 
the woods, which had been "prospected" 
by one of their number and highly recom- 
mended (located about six miles from a 
railroad station laid down on the map, but 
not }'et built), and having organized, 
agreed to have the first of a series of pro- 
posed wells dug, not by contract, ns was 
usual, but by day's work. Having procured 
the necessary tools, including a compass for 
guidance in the woods, the work was duly 
proceeded with, and progress from time to 
time reported. Calls for the "sinews" 
were also made, and promptly met, until 
the well was said to be down over one 
hundred feet, with a good show for oil. 
This was about the time for the "Annual 
Meeting," and more money being called 
for, it was deemed advisable to have the 
well re-measured and reported on. Judge 
of the surprise of the stockholders when, 
to use the language of one of the patri- 
archs in oil, the force of the oil from be- 
low had shoved the hole np to eighty-six 
fi'et! Here was a stunner; and, as the 
well had already cost a good round sum, 
and the resources of the company were 
limited, matters continued to remain in 
statu quo. The most plausible plan for 
getting out of the difficulty was that which 
proposed to have the balance of the hole 
taken up and cut into lengths for pump 
logs ! — a fair hit at many of the chimerical 
oil projects of that day. 

Various opinions are entertained as to 
the origin and source of this remarkable 
substance. According to Professor Silli- 
man, it is of vegetable origin, and was pro- 
duced by the agency of subterranean heat. 
Professor Dana says that it is a bitumin- 
ous liquid resulting from the decomposi- 
tion of marine or land plants, mainly the 
latter, and perhaps, also, of some non-nitro- 
genous animal tissues. By many, it is 
supposed to be a product of coal ; some 
supposing that the coal, being subjected 
to the enormous pressure of the overlying 



beds, has 3-ielded oil, as a linseed cake under 
an hydraulic press. The theory has even 
been advanced, that the coal, heated (as it 
evidently has been in the coal regions of 
eastern Pennsylvania), gave off oily vapors 
which, rising to the cold region of the 
upper air, condensed, and subsequently 
fell in oily showers, making its way as 
best it could to the hollows of the earth's 
interior, where now it is found by the oil- 
borer. 

An extensive survey and examination of 
the coal region by Mr. Ridgeway, an emi- 
nent geologist, convinced him that the 
petroleum was not produced from the coal 
fields, as in that ease it would have had to 
flow up-hill into the oil basin; it is, rather, 
the result of the decomposition of marine 
plants, in the Oil Creek valley, though 
that found in bituminous coal basins, orig- 
inates, no doubt, from beds of coal. Ac- 
cording to this theory, the plants which 
produced the oil in the rock existed and 
flourished at a long period of time before 
the vegetation which now forms coal beds ; 
they are unlike the vegetable impressions 
found in the accompanying shales and 
clays associated with beds of coal, and they 
grew where the flag-stones and shales of 
Oil Creek were laid down by salt water 
currents. The climate was so hot, during 
this age of marine vegetation, and the 
growth of plants so rapid and rank, caused 
by the supposed large amount of carbonic 
acid and hydrogen then composing the 
atmosphere, that these conditions on the 
face of the earth produced plants contain- 
ing more hydrogen and less carbon than 
the plants which produced coal beds, and 
hence their fermentation resulted in jsetro- 
leum. 

But the theory that the oil was pro- 
duced at the time of the original bitumin- 
ization of the animal or vegetable matter, 
has many difficulties in its way, especially 
the fact that such large quantities of 
inflammable gas always accompany the oil. 
That the oil is a product, not of coal, but 
of coral, is the opinion of some ; and thus, 
stored away in cells, forming, in the ag- 
gregate, immense reefs, as it was collected 



484 



PETROLEUM EXCITEMENT IN PENNSYLVAJSIA- 



from the impure waters of the earJy oceans 
by minute coral insects, it has been driven 
by heat and pressure into reservoirs and 
crevices, where man's ingenuity at last 
discovered it. 

Of the uses of petroleum, much might 
be said. Unrivaled and universal for illu- 
mination, it is also valuable as a lubricar 
tor, and, in some of its chemically prepared 
states, is employed as a dryer ir pain*^8 



and varnishes. For fuel and gas its util- 
ity has been amply proved. Medically, it 
has been found efficacious in suppurating 
wounds, also in headache, toothache, swell- 
ings, rheumatism, dislocations, and as a 
disinfectant. And even as a base in the 
production of colors, some of the most 
gratifying results have followed the chem- 
ist's experiments with this wonderful aj.- 
ticle. 



LIX. 

GKAND EMBASSY FROM THE EMPIRE OF JAPAN, WITH 

A TREATY OF PEACE AND COMMERCE, TO THE 

UNITED STATES GOVERNMENT.— 1860. 



First Ambassadors Ever Sent from that Ancient Country to a Foreign Land— Their Official Reception 
by President Buchanan, and Tour of Observation to the Chief Cities— Public Interest Excited by 
this Extraordinary Mission. — Their Oriental Costume, Manners, Ceremonies, etc.— Japanese Distinc- 
tion Shown to Americans. — Character of the Embassy. — Headed by Eminent Princes. — Numerous and 
Brilliant Suite. — Arrival at Washington.- Procession to the Hotel.— Most Curious Spectacle —How 
the Treaty was Carried. — Ceremonies at the White House. — Salutations and Speeches — Impressive 
International Scene — Japanese Diplomacy. — Delivering the Tycoon's Letter. — Personal Appearance 
of the Ambassadors. — President Buchanan's Opinion. — Humors and Drolleries. — " Tommy," the 
Ladies' Pet. — Gallantry to Miss Lane. — The Embassy at the Navy Yard. — Astonishment Expressed 
by Them. — Adieu to the President — America's Message to the Emperor. 



** Henceforth, the intercourne of frit-ndflhip shall be held hetween hoth ountrles, and benevolent fecllDgs ehall be cultivated more and 
more, and never altered."— LErTKK of tub Tycoo."* to the l*BB»ibENT. 



OJSTTRARY to all precedent in 
the history of Japan, and its 
dealings with the family of na/- 
tions, the rulers of that country 
sent an official embassy to the 
government of the United States, 
in the spring of 1860, charged 
with the duty of presenting for 
final ratification a treaty of amity 
and commerce between the two 
nations, — such as had never be- 
fore been made by the Japanese 
court with any other peojale, — 
and to express to the president 
the emperor's profound respect for him, and for the great republic of which he was the 
elected chief. 

It was justly regarded as something flattering to the national pride of Americans, 
that this country should be the first to receive the distinction of an embassy from that 
ancient and almost unknown people, and that a republican government of the freest 
form should have been selected for such an honor by a nation barred in by the prejudice 
of centuries against all but the most despotic rule; and the curiosity which everywhere 
prevailed to behold men from a region so distant, so long shut out from the rest of the 




JAPANESE BOX CONTAINING THE TREATY. 



486 



GRAND EMBASSY FROM JAPAN. 



world, and now, for the first time, not only 
admitting the visits of other nations, but 
themselves undertaking along and fatigu- 
ing voyage to visit strangers in the utter- 
most end of the earth, was certainly natural. 

The embassy consisted of two princiiaal 
ambassadors, princes of the highest rank 
among the nobility of the empire, and two 
associates, — nobles of nearly equal rank. 
These four were of the emperor's council, 
and were accompanied by a suite of sixteen 
officers, together with fifty-three servants. 
Arriving at Honolulu, in the United 
States ship Powhatan, Commodore Tat- 
nall, from Japan, thej' proceeded thence to 
San Francisco, where they arrived March 
27, 1860, in good health and spirits. A 
grand public ) e(;eption was given them by 
the city, the chief dignitaries of the em- 
bassy being loagnificently dressed in em- 
broidered s'ik robes, and each wore a 
sword of beautiful workmanship. 

In due time, the embassy reached Wash- 
ington, the capital of the nation, and the 
special place of their official destination. 
Here they were amply and elegantly ac- 
commodated at Willard's Hotel, many of 
the apartments being newly furnished for 
the occasion. A fine military and naval 
detachment performed escort duty, as, in 
regular procession, the high officials and 
their numerous retinue moved from the 
wharf to the hotel. The Nourimon, a 
black lacquered frame, square in shape, 
and in size and roof very much resembling 
a dog-kennel, in which was fixed the treaty 
box, hidden from the public eye by a loose 
cover of red oil-cloth, preceded the first 
ambassador, in the line of procession, and 
was borne by two of the men belonging to 
the navy yard. 

General Cass, secretary of state, received 
the embassy on Wednesday, May 17th, 
^nd made a short speech of welcome. The 
next day was appointed for the grand cer- 
emonial of their presentation to the presi- 
dent of the United States, at the executive 
mansion. 

The accounts given in the Washington 
newspapers, of this memorable proceeding, 
state that long before the time indicated 



for the passage of the procession from the 
quarters of the embassy to the president's 
house, the neighborhood was filled with a 
dense multitude, intent on witnessing a 
spectacle so unjirecedented. The United 
States marines, ordnance guards, and ma- 
rine baud, were in attendance to do the 
honors of escort. True to the time they 
had appointed, the Japanese officials com- 
menced leaving their hotel at half-past 
eleven o'clock, and as soon as they were 
seated in the carriages drawn up to convey 
them, the procession moved forward to the 
presidential mansion. Each carriage bore 
an officer of the embassy in full ceremo- 
nial costume, and, between every two car- 
riages, from two to four Japanese guards, 
armed with swords, not di-awn, marched 
on foot, one of them carrying aloft a small 
ensign in Japanese fashion, on a pole 
about twelve feet high. 

Occupying the first carriage, was an 
officer arrayed in a loose slate-colored gown 
of state, of a general form like the pulpit 
gown worn by the Ejiiscopal clergy, with 
huge sleeves stiffly extending right and 
left, the texture having a brocade-like 
appearance. The lower dress consisted of 
a pair of trousers, very wide and full, and 
of the same material. On the crown of 
the head, immediately over the tonsure, 
extending from the forehead to the crown, 
was worn an ornament, shaped like a band 
of three or four inches wide and eighteen 
inches long, bent in the middle, and the 
ends tied, but not close together. Nearly 
all the ambassadors wore this distinction, 
but in some the bend stood forward, in 
others backward. 

After the official in the slate-colored 
dress, came one in a rich green brocade ; 
next one in light green ; then one in yel- 
low ; next a dark slate, and another in 
yellow or orange, a third in green, and two 
riding with Mr. Portman, the interpreter, 
both arrayed in blue. One little official, 
in a skirt richly embroidered with pink 
and gold, attracted considerable attention. 

On arriving at the doorway of the exec- 
utive mansion, the Japanese guards took 
the advance and distributed themselves in 



GRAND EMBASSY PROM JAPAN. 



487 




488 



GRAND EMBASSY FROM JAPAN. 



a double line, between which the ambassa- 
dors and superior officers passed into the 
interior of the building. Here they re- 
mained about ten minutes, until the cen- 
tral folding-doors of the great East room 
were thrown open, when the oriental 
strangers found themselves in the presence 
of a brilliant throng of ladies and gentle- 
men, the latter comprising the president 
and his cabinet officers, senators, members 
of the house of representatives, and officers 
of the army and navy, all in full dress, and 
the whole scene being most striking and 
impressive. 

After every arrangement had been con- 
summated for the august interview, the 
Japanese princes charged with the custody 
of the treaty, after advancing a few paces, 
bowed reverentially ; then took a few more 
steps, and bowed again, with rigid formal- 
ity ; and, having bowed once more as they 
approached the president, they then stood 
fast. The caps, or ornaments, which they 
wore upon their heads, they retained 
throughout the ceremonies. The ambas- 
sador in chief, who stood in the center, 
now read from a paper which he held in 
his hand, his speech, or official address, to 
the president. It was read with rather a 
strong nasal intonation, indicating earnest- 
ness rather than eloquence. This speech 
was interpreted as follows : 

"His majesty, the Tycoon, has com- 
manded us that we respectfully express to 
his majesty the President of the United 
States, in his name as follows : Desiring 
to establish on a firm and lasting founda- 
tion the relations of peace and commerce 
so happily existing between the two coun- 
tries that lately the plenipotentiaries of 
both countries have negotiated and con- 
cluded a treaty, he has now ordered us to 
exchange the ratification of the treaty in 
your principal city of Washington. Hence- 
forth the friendly relations shall be held 
more and more lasting; and he is very 
happy to have your friendly feeling, and 
pleased that you have brought us to the 
United States, and will send us to Japan, 
in your men-of-war." 

When the ambassador concluded this 



address, a square red sort of box or bundle 
was, with some delay, unfolded, and its 
contents presented ceremoniously' and with 
an official air to the president, containing 
a letter to the latter from the Tycoon, or 
chief magistrate of Japan, and which the 
president immediately handed to Mr. Cass, 
secretary of state, who stood on his left hand. 

Having done this, the ambassador re- 
tired, explaining that it would not comport 
with the etiquette of his country that he 
should be present while the letter was 
read, and that he must report the delivery 
of the letter to " the commissioner," — an 
officer who remained at the door, outside. 

After a short delay, the princes, again 
entering as at first, and having, as they 
advanced, stopped three times to bow 
themselves, presented to the president 
their letters of credence, which were in 
like manner passed over to the secretary of 
state. The president now commenced to 
read, in a very distinct and audible voice, 
his official address to the ambassadors, in 
the words following : 

" I give you a cordial welcome as repre- 
sentatives of his imperial majesty, the 
Tycoon of Japan, to the American gov- 
ernment. We are all much gratified that 
the first embassy which your great empire 
has ever accredited to any foreign power 
has been sent to the United States. 

I trust that this will be the harbinger of 
perpetual peace and friendship between 
the two countries. The ratifications you 
are about to exchange with the secretary 
of state cannot fail to be productive of 
benefits and blessings to the people of both 
Japan and the United States. 

I can say for myself, and promise for 
my successors, that it shall be carried into 
execution in a faithful and friendly spirit, 
so as to secure to the countries all the 
advantages they may justly expect from 
the happy auspices under which it has 
been negotiated and ratified. 

I rejoice that j-ou are pleased with the 
kind treatment which you have received 
on board of our vessels of war whilst on 
your passage to this country. You shall be 
sent back in the same manner to your 



geajS^d embassy from japan. 



489 



native land, under the protection of the ] 
American flag. 

Meanwhile, during your residence 
amongst us, which I hope may be pro- 
longed so as to enable you to visit different 
portions of our country, we shall be happy 
to extend to you all the hospitality and 
kindness eminently due to the great and 
friendly sovereign whom you so worthily 
represent " 

The tone and language of the president 
seemed to be listened to by his bowing 
auditors with great satisfaction, and espe- 
cially the promise that the embassy should 
be returned to Japan at the expense of the 
United States government, and under the 
protection of the American flag. 

The princes retired, as before, to report 
what had been done and said, to " the 
commissioner ; " but soon returned, and 
were then introduced successively to each 
member of the cabinet, who all shook 
hands with them. Next came General 
Scott, who made them one of his most gra- 
cious bows, hut before whose imposing 
stature the ambassadors seemed almost 
extinguished. The vice-president of the 
United States was then called for, but was 
not in presence. The speaker of the 
house of representatives was next sum- 
moned, and, with difficulty, and not a little 
delay, oared his way through the sea of 
ladies' bonnets and officers' epaidettes 
which tossed and billowed between him 
and the high place of honor. Finally, 
under the surveillance of Captain Dupont, 
the illustrious strangers, after a profound 
adieu to the president, which he returned 
with a bow as low, retired from the East 
room, and made their way through ranks 
of their kneeling subordinates to another 
room, where they prepared for their re- 
turn to their quarters. 

The following is a translation of the 
letter of the Ty-coon to the president, 
which was delivered by the ambassadors : 
" To His Majesty the President of the 
United States of America, I express with 
respect: Lately the governor of Simoda 
Insooye Sinano No-Kami and the Metske 
Iwasi Hego No-Kami had negotiated and 



decided with Townsend Harris, the minis- 
ter plenipotentiary of your country, an 
affair of amity and commerce, and con- 
cluded previously the treaty in the city of 
Yeddo. And now the ratification of the 
treaty is sent with the commissioner of 
foreign affairs, Simmi Boojsen No-Kami 
and Mooragaki Awajsi No-Kami, to ex- 
change the mutual treaty. It proceeds 
from a particular importance of affairs 
and a perfectly amicable feeling. Hence- 
forth, the intercourse of friendship shall 
be held between both countries, and benev- 
olent feelings shall be cultivated more and 
more, and never altered. Because the 
now deputed three subjects are those 
wdiom I have chosen and confided in for 
the present post, I desire you to grant 
them your consideration, charity, and 
respect. Herewith I desire you to spread 
my sincere wish for friendly relations, and 
also I have the honor to congratulate you on 
the security and welfare of your country." 
The first ambassador was a man of 
small frame, with a stoop across the shoul- 
ders ; he was about five feet five in height, 
and thirty-five in years, had a long face 
and a peculiar nose — being too thin to be 
called Jewish, and too even to be styled 
Eoman. The second ambassador looked 
twenty years older than the first. The 
countenance of the first indicated dignity 
beyond all affectation, and the highest 
refinement. The others were of less dis- 
tinguished mien, but all possessed an 
agreeable expression. They were all 
thick-skinned and dark in complexion, the 
general color being that of a bamboo 
w.ilking-cane. The hair was shaved from 
all parts of the head excepting the sides 
and back, from which it was gathered in 
long bands to the crown, and there fast- 
ened with a white string, leaving a lock 
three or four inches long, stiffened with 
oil, and brought forward to the forehead. 

They wore silk or crape undercoats, of 
various hues, looser robes of the same 
material, and mostly blue, being thrown 
and folded over them. In their belts of 
crape, they wore two swords, one short 
(the barrikarri sword, which no plebian 



49U 



GEAND EMBASSY UKOM JAPAN. 



can make use of), the other longer. These 
weapons are of a finer steel than is else- 
where made, and were borne in neatlj'- 
wrousrht scabbards of thick skin, inlaid 
with ornaments of gold and jewels. Their 
trousers were very wide and short, de- 
scending only to within five or six inches 
of tlie ground, and were made of silk, some 
of them being covered with beautifully 
embroidered figures of birds and flowers. 
These trousers were held up by a flat 
braid resting in the small of the back, and 
around which the crape belt passed. Upon 
their feet were white cloth coverings, half 
sock, half gaiter, closely fitting, and fast- 
ened by cords. Their sandals were of 
straw, and composed of a small, flat matting 
for the foot, and two cords to keep it in its 
place. Another article, almost inseparable 
from the dress, — the jiipe, — was carried in 
the back part of the belt, and was brought 
into very frequent, though not long sus- 
tained, use, three whiffs being the extent 
of Japanese indulgence in the weed. The 
princes, and most of the higher officers, 
wore watches purchased from the Dutch. 
For pockets, they used a part of their 
flowing sleeves and the front of their 
robes above the belt, the customary occu- 
pation of which by goodly-sized packages 
gave the wearers a protulierant appearance 
quite unaccountable at first sight. The 
dresses of the officers of lower grade were 
similarly fashioned, but not so rich in text- 
ure or color. Their coats were all marked 
with the stamp of the particular prince 
whom they served. 

President Buchanan extended the cour- 
tesies of the nation to the distinguished 
strangers in a manner befitting his high 
station, nor was he an imappreciating 
observer of their manners and peculiarities. 
"They never speak to me," he humor- 
ously said, "without calling me 'Emperor' 
and 'His Majestj',' and are the most par- 
ticular people about what they should do. 
Everything was written down for them, 
stating the course they were to take, the 
number of bows they were to make, and 
all that, before they left Japan. They 
can't understand me at all. They were 



here in front, to hear the band, on Satur- 
day. Well, I went down the steps to 
speak to some of my friends that I saw, 
and they couldn't tmderstand tliat at all. 
To think that I — ' Emperor of the United 
States ' — should go down among and shake 
hands with the jieople, astonished them 
wonderfully. Oh, no ! they couldn't un- 
derstand that, it was so unlike any thing 
in their own country. They are the 
queerest people to deal with j>ossible ; 
there's no getting anything out of them, 
the3''re so close about everything. Ah ! 
these Japanese; they're the most curious 
people I ever saw. They take notes of 
every incident. They've got down a long 
description of how I looked when they had 
the reception, and every matter they've 
seen — nothing escapes them. They're 
always sketching and taking notes of 
things. They're very proud, too, I can 
see ; they bow very low, but they won't do 
more than is prescribed for them in their 
instructions." The observations of the 
president, on these points, accorded pre- 
cisely with the views expressed by others. 
Tlie interest manifested by the public in 
the appearance and movements of the 
Japanese was a source of continued grati- 
fication to the oriental visitors ; they ap- 
peared pleased with the motley crowds 
that assembled under their windows, pre- 
senting to them quite frequently their 
smiling countenances, — sometimes amus- 
ing themselves, also, by throwing their 
native coin into the street, to be scrambled 
for. Large numbers of ladies and gentle- 
men paid their respects to them, and 
begged a card written in Japanese charac- 
ters, which were exhibited, in connection 
with the singular coin, as trophies and 
mementos of this memorable occasion. 
The Japanese were particular to inquire 
the occupation of their visitors, their salary, 
whether married, and numerous other ques- 
tions, all of which were written on their 
note-books. With the ladies they were less 
particular. They smiled upon them most 
benignly, and were profuse in their admi- 
ration, as they were minute in their exam- 
ination of their jewelry. The piano was 



GRAJSTD ElIBASSY FROM JAPAN. 



491 



a special object of curiosity ; the source 
whence such beautiful harmonies proceeded 
was a profound mystery to them, but they 
never seemed to tire of the instrument. 

One of the most popular members of the 
embassy was Tataiesi Owasjero, the young- 
est of the interpreters, and called by his 
American friends " Tommy." He was a 
particular favorite with the ladies. When 
fans were handed to him for his autograph, 
he wrote upon them, " I like American lady 
very much ; I want to marry and live 
here with pletty lady " — (' pletty ' being an 
emendation of his own upon ' pretty.') 
Moreover, the sentiments of Tommy ap- 
peared to be liberally reciprocated. He 



which he persisted in calling 'Poppy Goes 
the Weasel,' — thinking the extra syllable 
rather a good thing. He also extended 
his American acquirements in a less praise- 
worthy direction, — getting to swear after a 
curious manner, and, when over-excited, 
mingling undue profanity with his conver- 
sation, but with no notion of the impro- 
priety he was committing. A beautiful 
little girl, six or seven years old, was car- 
ried by Mayor Berret to see the Japanese. 
Tommy directly assumed a deep interest 
in her. He explained to her all sorts of 
Japanese notions, and for once repressed 
his boisterous instincts. He kept calling 
all his companions to look at the pretty 




AMLAS.^AL'URS SIMMI BOOJSEN XOKAMI AND MOOItAGAKI AWAJSI IfOKAMI. 



was a thorough pet. Bevies of maidens 
gazed beneficently upon him all day, and 
until late in the evening, and extended to 
him unreluctant hands. Matrons, too, 
proffered him attentions ; but, with keen 
discrimination, he was generally taken 
with a fit of business when the smiles that 
greeted him were not the smiles of youth- 
ful beauty. He soon learned to sing and 
whistle — a great acquisition, since the 
Japanese are not a singing people, and 
have but few musical instruments. Among 
the tunes which he mastered were ' Hail 
Columbia,' and ' Pop Goes the Weasel,' 



stranger, and when she was about going 
away, asked : " Is it permitted here to kiss 
a little girl so young as that ? " — adding 
that in Japan it was considered exactlj' 
the correct thing to do. 

On the occasion of the embassy visiting, 
in a social way, the president's grounds, 
Miss Lane, the president's niece, exhibited 
some curiosity to examine the blade of 
Ogoori Bungo-No-Kami's sword. No 
sooner did that official comprehend the 
desire of the lady to unsheath his catanna 
(the name of the weapon,) than he smiled 
most graciously, and said in Japanese, 



492 



GEAND EMBASSY FEOM JAPAN. 



"Take it, tny ladj'," at the same time 
handing it to Iier most gracefully. She, 
upon this, drew the glittering blade from 
its scabbard — half wood, half leather, with 
an inlaying of silver, — and eyed it woman- 
like and closely, and then returning it to 
its sheath, handed it back to its owner, 
who took it with evident j)leasure that the 
thing of his honor and defense should have 
excited interest on the part of one so fair. 

Visiting the navy yard, they were aston- 
ished at beholding the forging of a main 
stem of a large anchor. They then pro- 
ceeded to the steam boiler department, and 
were evidently delighted with a large new 
boiler destined for the steamer Pensacola, 
as they examined it minutely. In the 
punching establishment, the mode of drill- 
ing amused them very much, as did also 
the explosion of a large mass of powder, in 
the shape of signal lights, as used in the 
navy. The extending of an immense 
chain, by hydraulic pressure, greatly ex- 
cited their curiosity. 

Alter a tour through different portions 
of the country, including visits to the 
principal cities, where the}' were the recip- 
ients of the most lavish and magnificent 
hospitalities, they had their final ceremo- 
nial audience with President Buchanan, in 
Washington. On this occasion, the first 
ambassador read, quite in a whisper, the 
following words of farewell, as repeated by 
the interpreter : 

"The exchange of the ratification of the 
treaty having taken place, and the time of 
our departure having arrived, we have 
come to take leave of j'our excellency, and 
to wish you continued health and prosper- 
ity. We may be allowed to-day to tender 
your excellency our heart-felt thanks for 
your friendly feelings on our behalf, .and 
for the very kind treatment we have met 
with in Washington. 

It has been a source of gratification to 
us to visit several government institutions, 
where we have seen many things in which 
we have felt much interest. Of all this, 
and of our journey home in the Niagara, a 
full account will be submitted by us, on 
our return, to the Tycoon, who will be 



greatly pleased by it, and who will always 
endeavor to strengthen and to increase the 
friendly relations so happily established 
between the two countries." 

To the speech of the ambassador, the 
president replied as follows ; 

" The arrival of these distinguished 
commissioners from the Tycoon has been 
a very propitious and agreeable event in 
my administration. It is an historical 
event, which, I trust, will unite the two 
nations together in bonds of friendship 
through all time. 

The conduct of the commissioners has 
met my entire approbation, and the Ty- 
coon could not have selected out of all his 
dominions, any representatives who could 
have more conciliated the good-will of the 
government of the United States. I have 
caused the secretary of state to prepare a 
letter of re-credence — a letter from under 
my own hand — to the Tycoon, stating my 
opinion of the manner in which they have 
performed their business ; and a copy of 
that letter will be placed in their hands 
before their departure. 

I wish you a very agreeable time during 
the remainder of your residence in the 
United States, and a safe and happy return 
to your own country, under the flag of the 
American Union. 

I desire, for mj-self, to present to each 
of the commissioners a gold medal, struck 
at the mint, in commemoration of their 
arrival and services in this country. 

There have been several presents pre- 
pared for his imperial majestv the Tycoon, 
which will be sent to your lodgings in the 
course of the day." 

The embassy jeft the United States on 
the first of July, in the magnificent ship- 
of-war Niagara, carrj'ing with them, in 
addition to the treaty by which American 
commercial privileges in Japan were much 
extended, a large number of valuable gifts 
from our government, and the remem- 
brance of a visit in every respect happy 
and auspicious. The results of the mission 
were in the highest degree Satisfactory to 
both governments, and naturally excited 
much interest on the part of other nations. 



LX. 

TOUR OF HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS, ALBERT EDWARD, 

PRINCE OF WALES, THROUGH THE UNITED 

STATES.— 1860. 



Friendly Letters between President Buclianun and Queen Victoria on the Siiliject. — The Prince's First 
Entrance into American Waters. — Unbounded Hospitalities Extended Him. — Hunting Excur.sinn?, 
Military Reviews, Balls, Illuminations, etc. — Splendid Banquet at the White House — England's 
Appreciation of these Honors to Her Future King. — Heir to the British Throne — Arrival at Detroit, 
Chicago, etc. — Enthusiastic Crowds Greet Hira. — His Way Completely Blocked Up— On a Hunt: 
Fine Sportsman. — Receptions at Various Cities. — Locomotive Ride to Washington. — Guest of Presi- 
dent Buchanan. — Courtesies and Ceremonials —Visit to Mount Vernon. — At the Tomb of Washing- 
ton. — Unparalleled Historical Scene — He Plants a Tree at the Grave — Hare Scenes in Philadelpliia. 
— New York and Boston Festivities — Present from Trinity Church, New York. — Greatest Balls Ever 
Known. — He Meets a Bunker Hill Veteran. — Impressions of America — Incidents, Anecdotes, Inter- 
views. — His Looks, Manners, Dress, etc. — Brilliant Farewell at Portland. 



*' Toa may tie well Bsrareil tliat evervwliere in ttiii couDtrv he will he greeted by 'lie American people in Bucti a manner as cannot taii to 
l»e gratifying to .vour Majesty."— Pkhsidknt Buchanan to Qukkn Vicroau. 




R. Buchanan's closing presidential year was ren- 
dered memorable bj' the visit to this country of 
Albert Edward, Prince of Wales, who, being 
the eldest son of Queen Victoria, and great 
grandson of George III., — the king who waged 
against America the wars of 1776 and 1812 — 
naturally riveted all eyes, and excited univer- 
sal attention, as he journeyed from one part of 
the Union to another. At the time of this 
visit, the prince was in his nineteenth year; 
had been educated at Oxford University, and 
was reputed a worthy son of a good mother, — 
and destined, on the death of the latter, to be 
King of the British realm. President Bu- 
chanan, having been informed of the Prince's 
g^^^l intention to make a Canadian tour, addressed 
THE PRINCE OF WALES AT WASHINGTON'S TO^B. ^^^ followlng letter to the Queen, which was 
presented by Mr. Dallas, United States Minister at the Court of St. James : 
"To HER Majesty, Queen Victoria: 
I have learned, from the public journals, that the Prince of Wales is about to visit 



49i 



TOTIR OF THE PRINCE OF WALES. 



your Majesty's North American domin- 
ions. Sliould it be the intention of His 
Eoyal Highness to extend his visit to the 
United States, I need not say liow happy 
I should be to give him a cordial welcome 
to Washington. 

You ma}' be well assured that every- 
where in this country he will be greeted 
by the American people in such manner 
as cannot fail to prove gratif^'ing to your 
Majesty. In this they will manifest their 
deep sense of your domestic virtues, as well 
as their convictions of your merits as a 
wise, patriotic, and constitutional sover- 
eign. 

Your Majesty's most obedient servant, 
James Buchanan." 

In reply to the foi-egoing highly courte- 
ous letter, dated at Washington, June 4, 
1860, Queen Victoria dispatched the fol- 
lowing most happily worded response, 
dated at Buckingham Palace, June 22d : 
"My GrooD Friend: 

I have been much gratified at the feel- 
ings which prompted you to write to me, 
inviting the Prince of Wales to come to 
Washington. He intends to return from 
Canada through the United States, and it 
will give him great pleasure to have an 
opportunity of testifj'ing to you in person 
that these feelings are fully reciprocated 
by him. He will thus be able, at the same 
time, to mark the respect which he enter- 
tains for the Chief Magistrate of a great 
and powerful state and kindred nation. 

The Prince of Wales will drop all roj-al 
state on leaving my dominions, and travel 
under the name of Lord Renfrew, as he 
has done when traveling on the continent 
of Europe. 

The Prince Consort wishes to be kindly 
remembered to you. 

I remain ever, your good friend, 

Victoria E." 

It was on the 23d of July, 1860, that 
the prince arrived at St. Johns, N. F., 
and, after journeying for some weeks in 
the various British Provinces, where he 
was received with the most distinguished 
and enthusiastic attentions, he finally en- 



tered American waters, between Windsor, 
Canada, and Detroit, Mich. When the 
boat reached the center of the stream, the 
Mayor of Detroit stepped forward and 
said : "Baron Renfrew, we luelcome yov, to 
the United States, trusting that your visit 
may he a happy one — that you may long 
remember it %i:ith pleasure avd satisfac- 
tion." At least fifty thousand persons 
were present, and when the band struck 
up The Star Spangled Banner, the cheer- 
ing and enthusiasm were tremendous. 

After witnessing a magnificent illumin- 
ation in his honor, the next morning he 
departed for Chicago. He was attended, 
as usual, by his somewhat numerous suite, 
the Duke of Newcastle being chief, A 
magnificent open barouche, drawn by four 
superb white horses, had been provided to 
convey him from the hotel. The party 
seated themselves in the barouche, when 
the immense crowd gathered around, and 
blocked up the avenues so thickly as to 
make it next to impossible to proceed. 
Clieer after cheer was given for the baron, 
and the wildest enthusiasm prevailed. 
The carriage was followed by prodigious 
throngs on foot, many hanging to the 
wheels, while the streets and sidewalks on 
the route were so obstructed by people, 
that the royal party were intercepted at 
every turn. Arriving at Chicago, a vast 
assembly greeted him. Baron Renfrew 
rode along a line of excited people, — who 
were kept from him by ropes, — bowing, 
with hat off, amidst repeated cheers. As 
he passed, a rush was finally made, and, 
in spite of every effort of the policemen, 
the crowd surged in like the sea. Ar- 
riving, at last, at the hotel, five thousand 
persons were there found gazing at the 
windows, in almost perfect silence and 
order, waiting to see the prince's shadow 
even. Here, the most splendid honors 
and hospitalities were heaped upon him, 
exceeding anything of the kind ever be- 
fore known in that young and powerful 
city of the west. 

Leaving Chicago in a special train for 
Dwight's Station — from which place the 
prince was to start on a hunting excursion, 



TOUR OF THE PRINCE OF WALES. 



495 



— he arrived there at dark, on Saturday 
evening. The next day, the prince at- 
tended divine service at the Presbyterian 
church. In the afternoon, a courier ar- 
rived with dispatches from the queen, and 
the party spent the rest of the day in read- 
ing their letters and answering them. On 
Monday they shot prairie chickens ; on 
Tuesday, they went in pursuit of quail, 
and were very successful, the prince, who 
enjoyed the sport highly, bagging over a 
hundred birds. His host, Mr. Spencer, 
an experienced hunter, pronounced the 
prince an excellent sportsman, handling a 
gun finel}'. The whole party dressed 
roughly, and walked about the village 
smoking pipes in the most free-and-easy 
style. A couple of Irishmen called to see 
the prince, who welcomed and shook hands 
with them. Before leaving this place, he 
expressed his regret that he could not 
make his stay longer, and presented his 
hosts with several beautiful gifts, among 
which was a Manton gun, etc. 

From this place he went to St. Louis, 
and thence to Cincinnati. When he 
landed at the former place, loud cheers 
greeted him, and the crowd surrounded his 
carriage to such an extent, that he was 
obliged to close the windows of the vehi- 
cle ; the carriages of the suite were also 
driven in opposite directions, to divide the 
throng. At the agricultural fair at St. 
Louis, the royal party passed twice around 
the arena, and then alighted in the center. 
After this, they ascended to the second 
story of the pagoda, where the band struck 
up God Save the Queen. This was followed 
by Hail Columbia and Yankee Doodle. 

At Cincinnati, the prince attended a ball 
given at the opera-house, Saturday even- 
ing, and the next day attended worship at 
St. John's church, and heard a sermon 
from Bishop Mcllvaine. In the evening 
he dined with the mayor and other citi- 
zens. From Cincinnati the prince went 
to Pittsburg ; dined at Altona ; and ar- 
rived at Harrisburg late in the evening of 
October 2d, where he was received by Gov- 
ernor Packer, in the following unique and 
off-hand address of welcome ; 



" Lord Renfrew, — It affords me infinite 
pleasure to welcome your lordship to the 
capital of the commonwealth of Pennsyl- 
vania, one of the old thirteen colonies that 
oiuginally acknowledged allegiance to the 
crown of Great Britain, and, notwithstand- 
ing that allegiance has been severed, your 
lordship will perceive, by a glance at that 
long line of colonial and state governors 
(pointing to the portraits which adorn the 
executive chambers), that we still have a 
very, very great veneration and regard for 
our ancient rulers. That line of portraits 
is almost a perfect type of our American 
families. We cannot follow our ancestry 
more than a few generations back, without 
tracing the line to a British red-coat." 

On the third of October, he left Harris- 
burg, early in the morning, for Baltimore 
and Washington. On his way, in descend- 
ing the mountain, the prince and his 
friends rode upon the locomotive, so as to 




obtain a better view of the magnificent 
scenery of the eastern slope of the Alle- 
chanies, and expressed themselves much 
gratified with their ride. Declining any 
reception at Baltimore, the prince pro- 
ceeded at once to Washington. 

It would be as impossible to describe 
the varied honors and ceremonials which 
were showered upon the prince during his 
stay in the nation's metropolis, as to detail 
the fetes, ovations, and multitudinous pa- 
geants, which attended him at every prin- 
cipal point along his journey from one end 



496 



TOUK OF THE PRINCE OF WALES. 



of the country to the other. Suffice it to 
say, in brief, that at Washington he was 
received by General Cass, secretary of 
state, and two nephews of President Bu- 
chanan. He was at once conducted to the 
White House, where he was welcomed by 
the president. At six o'clock he dined, 
the members of the cabinet and one or two 
senators with their wives being of the 
party. On Thursday, October 4tli, the 
prince and suite visited the capitol and 
the patent office. A reception was given 
at the White House, at one o'clock, in 
honor of the prince, and an immense 
crowd was present. On this occasion, the 
prince was dressed in blue coat and gray 
pants, and, with ungloved hands, stood 
upon the right of the president ; near the 
prince stood Lord Lyons. As each person 
passed, the president shook hands with his 
customary urbanity, and the prince bowed 
as usual, though several ladies succeeded 
in shaking his hand. In the evening, a 
diplomatic dinner took place at the White 
House, at which were present a splendid 
array of high officials and foreign dignita^ 
ries, the banquet being, in all respects, 
one of the most splendid of its kind ever 
given on this continent. 

The next day, the prince, with his suite 
and a distinguished company-, visited 
Mount Vernon and the Tomb of Washing- 
ton. It was a scene never before enacted 
by any prince or potentate, — the heir to 
the proudest throne in the world making a 
pilgrimage to the tomb of a rebel general, 
one who, though once pronounced a traitor 
by the very ancestors of the prince, now 
ranks above all kings — the Father of a 
Country second to none. The day was all 
tliat could be desired, one of October's 
finest. The prince and his suite, accom- 
panied by President Buchanan and other 
eminent persons, went on board the gov- 
ernment steamer Harriet Lane, and in 
a short time reached their destination. 
Having carefully inspected the various 
apartments of the mansion — the place 
where the patriot wrote, the room in which 
be slept, the bed on which he expired, and 
examined the key of the Bastile, the piano 



presented by Washington to Mrs. Lewis, 
and other relics and curiosities, the partj' 
tlien proceeded in silence to the great 
patriot's last resting-place. 

Approaching the hallowed spot, each 
one reverentially uncovered his head. The 
Marine Band had arrived before them, and, 
concealed by a neighboring thicket, began 
playing a dirge composed by the leader. 
The scene was most impressive. The vis- 
itors, ranging themselves in front of the 
tomb, looked in, through the iron-grated 
door, at the sarcophagus which contains 
the mortal remains of the illustrious chief- 
tain. Then, retiring a few paces, the 
prince, the president, and the ro^'al party, 
grouped in front, silently contemplated the 
Tomb of Washington. 

Turning their attention once more to 
the surrounding grounds and scenerj', one 
cut a cone to carry back to England, as a 
relic of the place ; another plucked a 
flower, as a memento of the day and scene ; 
and the prince, at the request of the 
Mount Vernon Association, planted, with 
but little formality, a tree, upon a beauti- 
ful little mound near the tomb, and took 
with him a companion seed to plant in 
Windsor forest. 

This pleasant commemorative ceremony 
being over, the visitors again stood for a 
few moments before the tomb, and then, 
turning away in thoughtful silence, slowly 
retraced their way to the Harriet Lane, 
which during their absence had been trans- 
formed, by means of canvas and gay flags, 
into a beautiful dining saloon, with covers 
laid for the entire party. 

Going from Washington to Richmond, 
Va., he there attended St. Paul's church, 
on Sunday, after which he visited Gov- 
ernor Letcher. Baltimore was the next 
place visited, and, after a drive around the 
city, with the mayor, he left for Philadel- 
phia, on arriving at which city, he put up 
at the Continental. As he reached this 
hotel, an amusing incident transpired. 
He sprang out of his carriage with his 
I usual agility, and, to avoid the crowd. 
I rushed for the stairs, and into the arms of 
I the superintendent of order, who, presum- 



TOUK OF THE PRINCE OF WALES. 



497 



ing him to be an interloper, stopped him, 
and would not allow him to pass. In vain 
the prince struggled and kicked. The 
superintendent kept fast hold of the " in- 
truder," until Mayor Henry rushed up and 
relieved His Royal Highness from this 
international embrace. The superintend- 
ent bowed low, and begged pardon, but, 
with the natural tendency to self-defense, 
asked, " Why didn't he just speak ? " 
" Oh," said the prince, running ahead, 
" that would have spoiled the joke." 

Some time before the prince arrived in 
Philadelphia, the ladies swarmed in large 
numbers to the Continental, to inspect the 
prince's splendid apartments, to sit where 
he was to sit, etc. They were escorted 
in and out of the rooms in parties of three 
and four, and seemed to feel easier after 
the visit. After his arrival, hundreds of 
people stood around the hotel all day. 
Some, indeed, mostly ladies, who had 
fought or bribed their way up stairs, hung 
around the door of his apartments, and 
touched him curiously as lie slipped past. 

The principal receptions of the prince, 
after his departure from Philadelphia, were 
at New York, West Point, and Boston ; 
but no account of these receptions, short 
of an elaborate volume, would be equal to 
their variety, extent, and magnificence, 
and consequently only a few incidents can 
be here narrated. 

While at New York, he attended wor- 
ship at Trinity church, three front pews 
in the center aisle being reserved for the 
prince and suite. In one of them, and 
immediately in front of the prince's seat, 
two magnificent prayer-books were depos- 
ited, the one a small octavo size, the other 
a half-quarto. They were both got up in 
the most perfect style of typographical art, 
and the skill of the binder had exhausted 
itself on the exterior decorations. The 
large one was bound in bright red morocco, 
and was fastened by a golden clasp, 
chastely embellished with filigree work, 
and finely worked with the Prince of 
Wales's plume and his motto " Ich Dien," 
("I serve.") The clasp alone cost two 
hundred and fifty dollars. On its outer 
32 



cover, the book bore this inscription . " To 
His Royal Highness, Albert Edward, 
Prince of Wales, from the Corporation of 
Trinity Church, New York, in Memory of 
the Munificence of the Crown of En- 
gland." 

At the Academy of Music, October 12th, 
there was given the greatest ball, in honor 
of the prince, ever known in this country. 
Over three thousand persons were present 
— the creme de la creme of New York soci- 
ety. The ball-room comprised the par- 
quette of the academy, and embraced the 
stage. It was one hundred and thirty-five 
feet in length by sixty-eight feet in breadth. 
The end toward the stage was arranged in 
a semi-circular form, while toward the 
other end were placed three superb couches. 
The central one was for the prince, while 
those on either side were for his suite. 
The decorations were floral throughout the 
ball-room. The scene was magnificent. 
There was a sea of heads in a sea of colors 
— the light flashing back from the gayest 
and richest of dresses, from pearly white 
shoulders and brilliant complexions, and 
from jewels iris-hued and rivaling the stars 
in brightness. The full-dress black coats 
absorbed the superfluous light, and softened 
the blaze of the thousand lamps. The 
rich military uniforms, ornamented with 
golden lace and epaulettes, relieved the 
uniformity of the gentlemen's toilets. 

While the royal party were observing 
the throng and the decorations of the 
room, a sudden rustle and movement of the 
crowd backward indicated that some acci- 
dent was about to happen, and, in a mo- 
ment after, one of the flower vases upon 
the front tier fell with a great crash to the 
floor, scattering its roses upon all who 
stood near. 

The supper-room was especially erected 
for the occasion, and its length was one 
hundred and forty-four feet, by twenty- 
eight feet breadth. The entire vast apart- 
ment was draped in alternate strips of pink 
and white muslin, with twenty-four splen- 
did mirrors intervening ; magnificent 
chandeliers, suspended from the roof, con- 
tributed to the brilliancy of the display. 



4'J8 



TOUK OF THE PRINCE OF WALES. 




ORAND BALL GIVEN TO THE PRIXCE OF WALES, IN BOSTON. 



All along the supper-room were two tables, 
gorgeous in all the appointments of gold, 
silver, and china ware, and the feast was 
magnificent. 

It was at first contemplated to give the 
prince a grand public dinner, but this was 
changed to a ball, because the prince, being 
so j'oung a man, could not be expected to 
make an extemporaneous speech, and eti- 
quette forbade any one speaking as his 
substitute. 

From New York, the prince sailed in the 
government steamer Harriet Lane, for 
West Point. Here he was received with 
the highest honors known to the military 
service ; and after visiting the command- 
ant, and riding round the place, he ac- 
cepted an invitation to review the cadets. 
Eight battalion companies of cadets, eleven 
files front, presented themselves on the 
right of the line ; then the company of 
sappers and miners; then the battery of 
four guns of light artillery, with a corps of 
cadets acting as cannoneers; and the left 
v,-2s occupied by a detachment of dragoons. 



In a few minutes after the formation of 
the line, the prince and suite, with Lieu- 
tenant-General Scott, appeared on the 
parade ground, when Major Rej-nolds gave 
the order to " Prepare for Review." Tlie 
ranks of the troops were opened, the artil- 
lery unlimbered, the oflicers and colors to 
the front, when the reviewing party 
marched to the head of the military col- 
umn, while the band played the air of 
God Save the Queen. As the prince and 
escort passed down the military line, the 
band pla_yed the very elegant air of the 
Flowers of Edinburgli. The reviewers 
passed down the front, and between the 
open ranks of the troops, back to their 
original position on the parade ground. 
The troops were then broke into column 
by companies and marched in review — 
first in common time, then in quick time, 
and finally in double quick time. As the 
commandants of the companies passed and 
saluted the prince, he gracefully raised his 
hat in acknowledgment. 

Leaving West Point, the princa pro- 



TOUR OF THE PRINCE OF WALES. 



49"J 



ceeded to Albany, where he was received 
by Governor Morgan and the state author- 
ities. After spending an hour or two at 
the capitol, he repaired to the governor's 
residence, and dined there, Mr. Seward 
and others being guests. The next day 
he took a special train for Springfield, 
Mass., and thence to Boston. He was 
conducted to his quarters by the Boston 
authorities, an immense crowd following. 
The principal occasions of interest, while 
stopping in Boston, were as follows : On 
Thursday he witnessed a great political 
procession ; then received Ralph Farnhani, 
the survivor of Bunker Hill battle ; re- 
viewed the troops on Boston Common ; 
attended a children's musical entertain- 
ment at the music hall ; and went to the 
ball in the evening. On Friday, visited 
Harvard college, and examined all the 
objects of interest at that venerable seat of 
learning ; and subsequently visited Mount 
Auburn, Bunker Hill, and the Charles- 
town navy yard. 

A very interesting interview was that 
with Ralph Farnham. The Duke of New- 
castle, who, with most of the suite, was 
present, asked the revolutionary veteran 
if he saw Burgoyne when he surrendered, 
adding, " You rather had him there ! " 
The old soldier then remarked, chucklingly, 
that hearing so much said in praise of the 
prince, he began to fear that the people 
were all turning royalists. This and Mr. 
Farnham's manner elicited much laughter, 
in which the prince fully joined. The 
prince then sent for pen and ink, and 
exchanged autographs with his visitor — 
one of the men who had stood before Brit- 
ish soldiers in 1776, in a manner and with 
a bearing very different from that vrith 
which he received the prince's courtesies 
and exchanged glances with the majors, 
colonels, and guardsmen of the royal suite. 
Mr. Farnham afterwards spoke of the 
interview with the greatest pleasure, re- 
marking that "he wished to show the boy 
and his soldiers that he bore no anger for 
old times." 

The musical festival was a novel and 
pleasant entertainment, at Music Hall. 



Twelve hundred school children were ar- 
ranged upon seats sloping from the floor to 
the ceiling, and from the platform one 
could see two large triangles of boys, and 
two immense parallelograms of gayly- 
dressed girls, while between them was an 
orchestra of sixty performers. As the 
prince entered, the whole comjjany rose, 
and the masses of children waved handker- 
chiefs and clapped hands, producing a fine 
effect. 

A grand success, too, was the ball, given 
at the Boston Theater, — not exceeded in 
splendor by that in New York. If one 
can imagine the immensity of this thear 
ter ; the dancing floor inclosed as by a 
pavilion, each tier differently and most 
richly decorated, and crowded with su- 
perbly dressed ladies ; the royal box all 
aglare with light, and rich in gilt, purpile, 
and azure; the frescoed ceiling, with its 
pendant dome of light, the marquee, with its 
groves, flowers, mirrors, arabesque ceiling, 
its multiform and varied decorations, and 
its view of Windsor Castle, seen as if from 
gome immense window ; — if one can imag- 
ine this scene, and then crowd it with 
richly dressed ladies, with gentlemen in 
every variety of ball costume, while, over 
all, the lights streamed their brilliant 
radiance, mirrors and jewels flashing back 
and reduplicating the rays, and the soft, 
sweet swell of the music bearing with it 
the graceful moving throng in a bewilder- 
ing maze of beauty, an adequate idea of 
the magnificent occasion may possibly be 
gained. 

Curiously enough, the Boston ball op- 
ened something like that in New York ; 
for all the committees, being anxious to 
speak to the prince, and leaning forward 
to do so, crash went a large vase of flowers, 
scattering its contents over the prince. 
There were profuse apologies, but the 
prince was laughing so heartily, that ha 
could not hear nor speak. 

The prince's appreciation of American 
ladies was very marked. At the Boston 
ball, he remarked slyly to a beautiful 
belle, "They made me dance with the old 
chaps in Canada." At Montreal, he 



500 



TOUR OF THE PRINCE OF WALES. 



danced with Miss Blackburn, of Katchez, 
<a lady of great beauty ; so enchanted did 
the prince become, that he afterward in- 
quired for her and expressed a desire to 
meet again. Among those with whom he 
danced, at the Cincinnati ball, was the 
beautiful Miss Groesbeck, daughter of 
Hon. John Groesbeck. The reporters 
represent that Miss Groesbeck, who was 
the belle of the evening, wore a white 
tulle dress, puffed to the waist, low neck, 
but wore no jewelry ; her mother, however, 
wore elegant diamond ear-drops, rings, and 
pins. When, therefore, one of the officers 
of the evening announced to Miss Groes- 
beck that she was to be honored with the 
prince's hand for the second dance, Mrs. 
Groesbeck quietly took off her own jewelry 
and passed them to her favored daughter ; 
the latter declined them. Her mother 
insisted; but Miss Groesbeck, with equal 
determination, positively refused to wear 
any kind of ornament other than her sim- 
ple dress and the wealth of beauty which 
Nature had bestowed on her. 

It is not exaggerating, to say that the 
prince made an agreeable impression 
wherever he went. He was described by 
ne of the newspaper reporters, as follows : 
'He seems to be about five feet four inches 
high ; his eye is beautifully blue, mild, 
funny, clear, and jolly ; his nose is well 
defined, not perfectly straight, but clean- 
cut and prominent ; his mouth is full, and 
his chin retreats wonderfully. His coun- 
tenance indicates a happy dispositioned, 
good-natured, humorous, fun-loving boy, 
who knows what he is about, and can't 
easily be fooled. His hair is soft and line, 
though disposed to grow rather low down 
the neck and on the forehead, whilst his 
head is well shaped, and would indicate 
firmness, benevolence, quickness of percep- 
tion, and love of music. The very, very 
large hands and feet of the young gentle- 
man are but reproductions of those of his 



royal mother, to whom Dame Nature has 
been very generous in that regard. His 
form is small and very well proportioned, 
and bis bearing is dignified, manly, and 
mof'est." His dress varied much, of 
course, with the place and occasion, but 
was always simple, elegant, and appro- 
priate. 

Portland, Me., was the place from which 
the illustrious guest of the nation took his 
departure for England. As the royal 
barge left the wharf to convey the prince 
to the Hero, the British squadron all fired 
a royal salute of twenty-one guns, and sim- 
ilar salutes were fired from the city and 
from Fort Preble. The harbor was full of 
steamers, sail-boats, barges, etc., which 
accompanied the royal barge from the 
wharf. As the flotilla neared the royal 
squadron, the yards were manned, and this, 
with the strings of bunting and flags flying 
from every point of the fleet, formed a 
magnificent spectacle, which was witnessed 
by an immense concourse of people. To 
all the parting salutations, the British 
ships responded by dipping their colors ; 
and, as the squadron sailed, the bands on 
board each vessel played Yankee Doodle, 
and Fort Preble saluted the party with 
farewell guns as they passed. 

So heart-felt, generous, and enthusiastic 
a reception of the prince, in America, pro- 
duced the highest satisfaction throughout 
England. The queen, at an early day, 
caused to be officially communicated to the 
president and to the people of the United 
States, "her grateful sense of the kindness 
with which they received her son;" the 
hospitality shown him was warmly com- 
plimented in parliament ; and Prince Al- 
bert, as chiincellor of the University of 
Cambridge, directed that the annual gold 
medal there given for the encouragement 
of English poetry, should, that year, be 
awarded for the best poem on " The Prince 
of Wales at the Tomb of Washington." 



LXI. 

BOMBARPMENT AND REDUCTION OF FORT SUM- 
TER.— 1861. 



Inauguration of Civil War in the United States.— First Military Act in the Long and Bloody Struggle 
to Dismember the Union— Organization of the Southern Confederacy.— President Lincoln's Procla- 
mation for 75,000 Volunteers.- Spontaneous Uprising of the Loyal People —Calling the Battle-Roll 
of the Republic —Supreme Crisis in the Fate of the Nation.— Northern and Southern Variances.— Slav- 
ery the Cause of Contention.— Culmination of the Antagonism.— Disunion the Banner of the South. 
—Secession of Several States.— War Wager Boldlv Staked —Vain Efforts at Reconciliation.— Federal 
Property Seized at the South —Batteries Erected at Charleston.- Fort Sumter Closely Besieged. 
—Beauregard Demands its Surrender.- Major Anderson's Flat Refusal.— Weakness of His Garrison. 
—Attempts to Re-enforce It— Prevented by Confederate Batteries.- All Eyes Riveted on the Fort.— 
Opening of the Attack, April 14th — Incessant and Tremendous Fire —Terms of Evacuation Accepted. 
— Southern Rejoicings.— The Great Military Outlook —Washington the National Key. 



.L o *^°^ either of you to-daj; name one single act of wrong, delibe'-tilelv and purpo'clv done bv the eove-nmpnt pt Waehinpton of which 
the South haa a iwiit to com,.liuu? I challenge an uu.wer."— Uo.v. Albx. U. STErBEKS, bkfoeb the Oeubuia Secission Cokvim- 




^IGHTY-FOUR years had now 
sped their course, since the 
republic of the United States, 
with the immortal Declara- 
tion of Independence as its Magna Char- 
ta of sovereignty, took a place among 
the governments of the earth as a free 
and independent nation, and, during all 
that long period, the federal armies had 
been called to face — with but an occa- 
sional local and transient exception — 
only external or savage foes. Party 
spirit, it is true, had not uiifrequently 
ran high, and hurled defiance at law and its administrators, and at times, tlie strain 
upon the ship of state seemed near to proving its destruction ; but forbearance, com- 
promise, fraternity and patriotism, smoothed the rough waves of contention, and peace 
regained her benign sway. 

But the long existing and bitter antagonism of opinion on the subject of slavery, 
between the North and the South, culminated at last — on the inauguration of Mr. 
Lincoln as president, in 1861, — in a civil war, the extent, duration, and horrors of 
which have never been paralleled in any age or among any people, since the world 



FLAO OF FOBT SUMrEB,AFTBR THE BOMBARDMENT. 



5U2 



BOMBARDMENT OF TORT SUMTER. 



began. In vain did President Lincoln de- 
clare, in his inaugural, his opposition to 
any interference with slavery in the states 
where it existed, in vain were assurances 
to the same effect proffered by the party 
that had just triumphed in the presiden- 
tial contest, and in vain were conferences 
and (consultations held by the leading 
statesmen and politicians of different sec- 
tions, with a view to avert the calamity of 
war. 

Intent on a separate national existence, 
under which they might maintain unmo- 
lested, as well as extend, the institution of 
slavery, the southern states recalled their 
senators and representatives from congress, 
flung out the banner of Secession — which 
was the wager and signal of War, — and, 
as an initial step, commenced the seizure 
of United States custom-houses, arsenals, 
forts, and other public property, within 
their borders. 

First in order of importance, in this 
startling programme of overt acts, was the 
movement of the authorities of South Car- 
olina to possess themselves of Fort Sum- 
ter, in Charleston harbor, before opportu- 
nity should be gained by the national 
government to re-enforce its scanty re- 
sources of men and provisions. To this 
end, extensive batteries were erected on 
the shores opposite the fort, by means of 
which, any ordinary naval force which the 
federal authorities then had available for 
conveying supplies, could easily be criji^ded 
in attempting such assistance. 

In this besieged condition, the brave 
and loyal commander of the fort. Major 
Robert Anderson, and his true-hearted 
men, were kept for several weeks, with the 
eager eyes of millions of admiring coun- 
trymen riveted upon them. The vessel 
which was finally dispatched by the navy 
department for their relief, was shelled by 
the batteries and compelled to return 
without fulfilling her mission. This was 
done in accordance with the orders received 
from the secession authorities at Mont- 
gomery, Ala., where a government styled 
the Confederate States of America had 
been formally established, with Jefferson 



Davis as president, and which was to as- 
sume all the resj)onsibility and direction 
of that mighty struggle through which, as 
they expected, southern independence was 
to be secured, and the Republic of the 
United States rent in twain. 

After various official preliminaries, on 
either side, but without arriving at any 
satisfactory understanding, a demand was 
made, April 11th, by General Beauregard, 
commander of the insurgent batteries, for 
the surrender of the fort. Tliis demand 
was declined by Major Anderson — all the 
officers having been consulted by him in 
regard to the summons. At about three 
o'clock, on the morning of the 12th, notice 
was given that fire would be opened on the 
fort in one hour, unless the demand to 
surrender was instantly complied with. 
Major Anderson resolved not to return fire 
until broad daylight, not wishing to waste 
any of his ammunition. From the state- 
ments made by the officers of Fort Sumter, 
it appears that fire was opened upon the 
fort from all points at once, and, to the 
astonishment of its defenders, a masked 
battery of lieavy columbiads opened on 
them from that part of Sullivan's Island 
near the floating battery, of the existence 
of which Major Anderson had not the 
slightest intimation. It was covered with 
brush and other materials, which com- 
pletely concealed it, and was skillfully con- 
structed and well secured. Seventeen 
mortars, firing ten-inch shell, and thirty- 
three heavy guns, mostly columbiads, were 
engaged in the assault. The crash made 
by the shot against the walls was terrific, 
and many of the shells took effect inside 
the fort. The inmates took breakfast at 
half-past six o'clock, leisurely and calmly, 
after which the command was formed into 
three reliefs, equally dividing the officers 
and men. The first relief was under the 
command of Captain Doubledaj', of the 
artillery, and Lieutenant Snyder, of the 
engineer corps. This detachment went to 
the guns and opened fire upon the Cum- 
mings's Point battery, Fort Moultrie, and 
Sullivan's Island. The Iron Battery was 
of immense strength, so that most of the 



BOMBARDMENT OF FORT SUMTER. 



503 



shots from Fort Sumter struck and glanced 
off again. The fire was so terrible on the 
parapet of Fort Sumter, that Major Ander- 
son refused to allow the men to man the 
guns. Had they been permitted to do so, 
every one of them would have been sacri- 
ficed. Fort Moultrie was considerably 
damaged by the cannonading from Fort 
Sumter, a great many shots having taken 
effect on the embrasures. A new English 
rifled gun, which was employed by the 
insurgents, was fired with great accuracy, 
several of its shots entering the embra- 
sures of Fort Sumter, and one of them 
slightly wounded four men. 




The reliefs were changed every four 
hours, and the men owed their safety to 
the extraordinary care exercised by tlie 
officers in command. A man was kept 
constantly on the look-out, wlio would cry 
'shot,' or 'shell,' at every shot the enemy 
made, tlius affording the men exposed 
ample opportunitj- for shelter. The gar- 
rison was lamentably weak in numbers ; 
but the workmen, though at first rather 
reluctant to assist the soldiers in handling 
the guns, gradually took hold and rendered 
valuable assistance. Indeed, but few shots 
■were fired before every one of them lie- 
came desperately engaged in the conflict. 
They had to abandon one gun, on account 
of the close fire made upon it. Hearing 
the fire renewed with it, however, an offi- 
cer went to the spot, and thore found a 
party of workmen still employed in serving 
it. One of the workmen was stooping 



over it with his hands on his knees, con- 
vulsed with joy, with the tears rolling 
down his powder-begrimmed cheeks. 
"What are you doing here with that 
gun?" the officer asked. "Hit it right 
in the center,"' was the reply, — the man 
meaning tliat his .shot had taken effect in 
the center of the iloating battery. 

The aim of tlio insurgents was particu- 
larly directed at the flag-staff, from which 
waved proudly the stars and stripes ; and, 
after two days' incessant firing, the flag- 
staff was finally shot away. The effect 
of such continuous firing was terribly 
damaging. " One tower," s.ays one of 
the garri.son, " was so completely de- 
molished that not one brick was left 
standing upon the other. The barracks 
caught fire on the first day several times, 
but in every instance was put out by Mr. 
Hart, of New York, a volunteer, who par- 
ticularly distinguished himself for his 
coolness and bravery. On the second dav, 
the barracks cfught fire from a ten-inch 
.shell, and the danger to be encountered in 
the attempt to extinguish it being so great, 
the major concluded not to attempt it. 
The effect of the fire was more disastrous 
that we could have .supposed. The subse- 
quent shots of the enemy took more effect 
in consequence; the walls were weakened, 
and we were more exposed. The main 
gates were destroyed by fire, thus leaving 
us exposed to the murderous aim of the 
enemy. Five hundred men could have 
formed on the gorge, and marched on us 
without our being able to oppose them. 
The fire spread around the fort on all sides. 
Fearful that the walls might crack, and 
the shells pierce and prostrate them, we 
commenced taking the powder out of the 
magazine before the fire had fully envel- 
oped it. We took ninetj'-six barrels of 
powder out, and threw them into the sea, 
leaving two hundred barrels in. Owing 
to a lack of cartridges, we kept five men 
inside the magazine, to sew them up as we 
wanted them, thus consuming our shirts, 
sheets, blankets, and all the available ma- 
terial in the fort. Wlien we were finally 
obliged to close the magazine, and our 



504 



BOMBARDMENT OF FORT SUMTER. 



material for cartridges was exhausted, we 
were left destitute of any means to con- 
tinue the contest. We had eaten our last 
biscuit thirty-six hours before. AVe were 
very nearly stifled with the dense smoke 
from the burning buildings. The men lay 
prostrate on the ground, with wet hand- 
kerchiefs over their mouths and eyes, gasp 
ing for breath. It was a moment of immi- 
nent peril. If an eddy of wind had not 
ensued, we all, probably, would have been 
suffocated. The crashing of the shot, the 
bursting of the shells, the falling of walls, 
and the roar of the flames, made a Pande- 
monium of the fort. We nevertheless 
kept up a steady fire. Early in the after- 
noon of the 13th, ex-senator Wigfall, of 
Texas, — who had become an ofiicer in the 
Confederate military service, — seeing the 
inequality of the contest, made his appear- 
ance at one of the embrasures with a white 
handkerchief on the end of a sword, and 
begged for admittance. He asked to see 
Major Anderson. While Wigfall was in 
the act of crawling through the embrasure. 
Lieutenant Snyder called out to him, 
" Major Anderson is at the main gate." 
He passed through the embrasure into the 
casement, paying no attention to what the 
lieutenant had said. Here he was met 
bj"^ Captain Foster and Lieutenants Mead 
and Davis. In an excited manner he 
said — 

" Let us stop this firing. You are on 
fire, and your flag is down. Let us quit." 

"No, sir," replied Lieutenant Davis, 
"our flag is not down. Step out here, and 
you will see it waving over the ramparts." 

"Let us quit this," said Wigfall; 
"here's a white flag — will anybody wave 
it out of the embrasure ? " 

"That is for you to do, if you choose," 
replied one of the oflBcers. 

" If there is no one else to do it, I will," 
said Wigfall. 

He immediately jumped into the em- 
brasure, and waved the flag towards Fort 
Moultrie. The firing, however, still con- 
tinued from Moultrie and the batteries of 
Sullivan's Island. In answer to his re- 
peated request, one of the officers said 



that one of Sumter's men might hold the 
flag, and Corporal Binghurst jumped into 
the embrasure. The shot continuing to 
strike all around him, he leaped down 
again, after having waved the flag a few 
moments, and exclaimed — 

"They don't respect this flag; they are 
firing at it." 

" They fired at me two or three times," 
replied Wigfall, "and I stood it, and I 
should think you might stand it once. If 
you will show a white flag from j-our ram- 
parts, they will cease firing." 

"If you request," said Lieutenant Da- 
vis, "that a flag shall be shown there, 
while you hold a conference with Major 
Anderson, and for that purpose alone, it 
may be done." 

At this point Major Anderson came up. 
Wigfall said, " I am General Wigfall, and 
come from General Beauregard, who 
wishes to stop this." 

Major Anderson, rising to his full 
height, replied, " Well, sir ! " 

" Major Anderson," exclaimed Wigfall, 
"you have defended your flag nobly, sir. 
You have done all that it is possible for 
men to do, and General Beauregard wishes 
to stop the fight. On what terms, Major 
Anderson, will you evacuate this fort ? " 

" General Beauregard is already ac- 
quainted with my only terms," was Major 
Anderson's reply. 

"Do I understand that you will evacuate 
upon the terms proposed the other day ?" 
inquired Wigfall. 

" Yes, sir, and on those conditions only." 

"Then, sir," said Wigfall, "I under- 
stand that the fort is to be ours." 

" On these conditions only, I repeat." 

" Very well," said Wigfall, and he re- 
tired. 

A short time afterwards, a deputation, 
consisting of Senator Chesnut, Roger A. 
Pryor, Capt. S. D. Lee, and W. Porcher 
Miles, came from General Beauregard and 
had an interview with Major Anderson, 
when it came out that Wigfall had no 
authority to speak for General Beauregard, 
but acted on his own responsibilitj'. 
" Then," said Lieutenant Davis, " we have 



BOMBARDMENT OF FORT SUMTER. 



505 



been deceived;" and Major Anderson, 
perceiving the state of tlie case, ordered 
the American flag to be raised to its place. 
The deputation, however, requested him 
to keep the flag down until they could 
communicate with General Beauregard, as 
matters were liable to be complicated. 
They left, and, between two and three 
hours after, the garrison meanwhile exert- 
ing themselves to extinguish the fire in 
the barracks, another deputation came 
from General Beauregard, agreeing to the 
terms of evacuation previously proposed. 
This was on Saturday evening. That 
night the garrison took what rest they 
could. Next day, the steam-boat Isabel 
came down and anchored near the fort. 




^^(2^?^^^^2:^^5^^ 



The steamer Clinch was used as a trans- 
port to take the garrison to the Isabel, but 
the transfer was too late to allow the Isa- 
bel to go out with that tide. The terms 
of evacuation agreed to were, that the gar- 
rison should take their individual and 
company property, and that they should 
march out with their side and other arms, 
with all the honors of war, in their own 
way, and at their own time, and that they 
should salute their flag and take it with 
them. 

The insurgents agreed to furnish trans- 
ports, as Major Anderson might select, to 
any part of the country, either by land or 
by water. When the baggage of the gar- 




rison was all on board of the transport, the 
soldiers remaining inside under arms, a 
portion were designated as gunners to 
serve in saluting the American flag. 
When the last gun was fired, the flag was 
lowered, the men cheering. At the fiftieth 
discharge there was a premature explosion, 
which killed one man instantly, seriously 
wounded another, and two more not so 
badly. The men were then formed and 
marched out, the band playing " Yankee 
Doodle " and " Hail to the Chief."' 

In regard to the mode of action pursued 
by Major Anderson, during the bombard- 
ment, his sagacity was everywhere mani- 
fest. So small was the number of his 
men, as to necessitate their division into 
reliefs, or equal parties, so as to work 
the different batteries by turns, each 
four hours. Another account of this 
terrible scene states that the first relief 
opened upon the iron batteries at Cum- 
mings Point, at a distance of sixteen 
hundred jards, the iron floating bat- 
tery, distant some eighteen hundred or 
two thousand 3'ards at the end of Sulli- 
van's Island, the enfilading battery on 
Sullivan's Island, and Fort Moultrie, 
— Captain Doubleday firing the first 
gun, and all the points just named be- 
ing opened upon simultaneously. For 
the first four hours, the firing was kept 
up with great rapidity ; the enthusiasm 
of the men, indeed, was so great that 
the second and third reliefs could not be 
kept from the guns. This accounts for 
the fact that double the number of guns 
were at work during the first four hours 
than at any other time. 

Shells burst with the greatest rapidity 
in every portion of the work, hurling the 
loose brick and stone in all directions, 
breaking the windows, and setting fire to 
whatever wood-work they burst against. 
The solid shot firing of the enemy's bat- 
teries, and particularly of Fort Moultrie, 
was directed at the barbette guns of Fort 
Sumter, disabling one ten-inch and one 
eight-inch columbiad, one forty-two pound- 
er, and two eight-inch sea-coast howit- 
zers, and also tearing away a large portion 



506 



BOMBARDMENT OF FORT SUMTER. 



of the parapet. The firing from the bat- 
teries on Cummings Point was scattered 
over the wliole of the gorge, or rear, of the 
fort. It looked like a sieve. The exjjlo- 
sion of shells, and the quantity of deadly 
missiles hurled in every direction and at 
every instant of time, made it almost cer- 
tain death to go out of the lower tier of 
casements, and also made the vi^orking of 
the barbette, or upper uncovered guns, 
which contained all the heaviest metals, 
and by which alone shells could be thrown, 
quite impossible. During the first day 
there was hardly an instant of time that 
there was a cessation of the whizzing of 
balls, which were sometimes coming half a 
dozen at once. There was not a portion of 
the work which was not seen in reverse — 
that is, exposed by the rear — from mor- 
tars. 

On Friday, before dinner, several of the 
Tessels of the fleet bej'ond the bar were 
seen through the port-holes. They dipped 
their flag. The command ordered Sum- 
ter's flag to be dipped in return, which 
was done, while the shells were bursting 
in every direction. The flagstaff was lo- 
cated in the open parade, being about the 
center of the oyien space within the fort. 
Sergeant Hart saw the flag half-way down, 
and, supposing that it had been cut by the 
enemy's shot, rushed out through the fire 
to assist in getting it up. Shortly after it 
had been re-raised, a shell burst and cut 
the halyards, but the rope was so inter- 
twined around the halyards, that the flag 
would not fall. Sergeant Hart also par- 
ticularly distinguished himself in trying to 
put out the flames in the quarters, with 
shells and shot crashing around him; and, 
though ordered away by Major Anderson, 
he begged hard to be permitted to remain 
and continue his exertions. 

One great misfortune was, that there 
was not an instrument in the fort by which 
they could weigh powder, which of course 
destroyed all attempt at accuracy of firing. 
Nor were there an}' tangent scales, breech 
sides, or other instrumenti with which to 
point a gun. When it became so dark as 
to render it impossible to see the effect of 



their shot, the port-holes were closed for 
the night, while the batteries of the seces- 
sionists continued their fire the whole 
night. The firing of the rifled guns from 
the iron battery on Cummings Point be- 
came extremely accurate in the afternoon 
of Friday, cutting out large quantities of 
the masonry about the embrasures at every 
shot. One piece struck Sergeant Kearnan, 
an old Mexican war veteran, striking him 
on the head and knocking him down. 
Upon being revived, he was asked if he 
was hurt badly. He replied, " No ! I was 
only knocked down temporarily;" and he 
went to work again. On Saturday, when 
the barracks were on fire, the wind sc 
directed the smoke as tofairlj'fill the fort, 
so that the men could not see each other, 
and, with the hot, stifling air, it was as 
much as a man could do to breathe. Soon 
they were obliged to cover their faces with 
wet cloths in order to get along at all, so 
dense was the smoke and so scorching the 
heat. But few cartridges were left, and 
the guns were fired slowly ; nor could more 
cartridges be made, on account of the 
sparks falling in every part of the works. 
A gun was fired every now and then, only 
to let the people and the fleet in the town 
know that the fort had not been silenced. 
The cannoneers could not see to aim, much 
less where they hit. 

After the barracks were well on fire, the 
shells and ammunition in the upper ser- 
vice-magazines exploded, scattering the 
tower and upper portions of the building 
in every direction. The crash of the 
beams, the roar of the flames, the rapid 
explosion of the shells, and the shower of 
fragments of the fort, with the blackness 
of the smoke, made the scene indescriba- 
bly terrific and grand. This continued for 
several hours. Meanwhile, the main gates 
were burned down, the chassis of the bar- 
bette guns were burned away on the gorge, 
and the upper portions of the towers had 
been demolished by shells. There was not 
a portion of the fort where a breath of air 
could be got for hours, except through a 
wet cloth. The fire spread through to the 
men's quarters, on the right hand and on 



BOMBARDMENT OF FORT SUMTER. 



507 




INTEKIOK OF FOBT SUMTEK AFTEH THE UOMUAKDMEM 

the left, and endangered the powder that 
had been taken out of the magazines. 
The men \yent through the fire and cov- 
ered the barrels with wet cloths, but the 
danger of the fort's blowing up became so 
imminent, that they were obliged to heave 
the barrels out of the embrasures. While 
the powder was being thrown overboard, 
all the guns of Moultrie, of the iron float- 
ing battery, of the enfilade battery, and 
the Dahlgren battery, worked with in- 
creased vigor. 

The interior of Fort Sumter, as seen 
after the evacuation and described by the 
newspaper reporters, showed the work that 
had been done during the bombardment. 
Every point and every object, to which the 
eye was turned, except the outer walls and 
casements, bore the impress of ruin. The 
■walls of the internal structure, roofless, 
bare, blackened and perforated by shot and 
shell, hung in fragments, and seemed in 
instant readiness to totter down. Near 
the center of the parade ground was the 
hurried grave of one who had fallen in 
defense of his country's flag. To the left 
of the entrance was a man who seemed at 
the verge of death. In the ruins to the 
right there was another. The shattered 
flag-staff, marked by four balls, lay on the 



ground. The parade ground was strewn 
with fragments of shell and of the dilapi- 
dated buildings. At least four guns were 
dismounted on the ramparts, and at every 
step the way was impeded by materials of 
the broken structure. The whole scene 
was one of frightful desolation, causing 
indescribable feelings in every loyal heart. 
On the 18th of April, Major Anderson, 
then on his way to New York, in the 
steamship Baltic, penned his official dis- 
patch to Mr. Cameron, secretary of war, 
stating that, " having defended Fort Sum- 
ter for thirty-four hours, until the quar- 



508 



BOMBARDMENT OF FORT SUMTER. 



ters were entirely burned, the main gates 
destroyed hy fire, the gorge wall seriously 
injured, the magazine surrounded by 
flames, and its door closed from the effects 
of the heat, four barrels and three car- 
tridges of powder only being available, 
and no provisions but pork remaining, I 
accepted terms of evacuation offered by 
General Beauregard, being the same of- 
fered by him on the lltli instant, prior to 
the commencement of hostilities, and 
marched out of the fort Sunday afternoon, 
the 14th instant, with colors flying and 
drums beating, bringing away company 
and private property, and saluting my flag 
with fifty guns." Major Anderson and his 
men received the thanks of the govern- 
ment for their gallant defense of the fort 
against such odds. 

As soon as the national flag had ceased 
to wave over Fort Sumter, the president 
issued a proclamation for an extra session 
of congress, to convene July 4th, and also 
calling for seveuty-five thousand men, in 
order "to maintain the honor, the integ- 
rity, and existence of our national Union 
and the perpetuity of popular government, 
and to redress wrongs already long enough 
endured." This proclamation was of 
course spurned and ridiiuled by the seven 
states — South Carolina, Georgia, Alabama, 
Florida, Mississippi, Louisiana, and Texas 
— that had formed themselves into the 
Southern Confederacy ; and, by the other 
southern states, as also by the border 
states, it was treated with mingled con- 
tempt and indignation. But, throughout 
the vast North and West, it was received 
and responded to with an enthusiasm 
which showed that the attempt to dismem- 
ber the North American Republic and 
blot it out from the map of nations, was to 
be resisted to the last dollar and the last 
man. The supreme hour in the history of 
the nation had now arrived, and, reluctant 
as were the loyal states to engage in the 
horrors of fratricidal strife, the wager of 
war was the only alternative which now 
presented itself. The national fate hung 
trembling in the scale of destinj', and the 



people rose in their might ; party lines 
were obliterated ; the battle-roll of the 
republic was called ; the old flag seemed 
never before so dear to the patriot's heart. 

On the other hand, the successful reduc- 
tion of Fort Sumter inspired universal 
enthusiasm at the south, in behalf of the 
secession cause, — Virginia, Tennessee, 
North Carolina, Arkansas, and Missouri 
joined the Confederacy, — and gigantic 
preparations were made for a contest which 
should result in separation and independ- 
ence. Armies were formed and equipped, 
and defensive fortifications erected, in all 
the disunion states. 

At the head of the armies of the loyal 
states was Lieutenant-General Scott, di- 
recting all the preparations and move- 
ments for the impending conflict, and espe- 
ciallj' devoting his military skill to the 
protection of the federal capital. It was 
said that he had all along been averse, 
from purely military considerations, to the 
re-enforcement of Fort Sumter, it being, 
like Charleston, of no strategic importance, 
requiring a valuable force to hold it, with 
no adequate advantage gained. He re- 
garded Fort Pickens, in the Gulf, and 
Washington, the cajiital, as the two keys 
of the position. On the 4th of March, and 
for some weeks afterward, it would have 
been almost impossible for the federal gov- 
ernment to defend Washington against 
such a force as had already been collected 
by the secessionists before Sumter, and 
which could be marched at any time on a 
capital unprepared for defense. General 
Scott's plans, based on these facts, were at 
once laid. No time was lost in strength- 
ening the capital. Success attended the 
effort to increase the garrison of Fort 
Pickens, and at last Washington was rea- 
sonably safe. 

And thus commenced what finally 
proved to be the most gigantic and bloody 
struggle in the annals of human strife, the 
result of the conflict, too, being the most 
momentous, perhaps, in its relations to the 
interests of the human race, of any since 
the world began. 



LXII. 

ASTONISHING FEATS OF HORSE-TAMING PERFOEMED 
BY MR. JOHN S. RAREY.— 1861. 



The most Savage and Furious Animals made Tractable as Lambs. — The Ferocious and Far-Famed 
" Cruiser " Lies Docile at His Master's Feet. — Acclamations of Wonder and Admiration by Crowded 
Audiences. — Brilliant Honors from Monarehs and Courts Abroad. — Philosophy of Mr. Rarey's 
Method and Success. — Mr. Rarey Personally. — Boyhood Fondness for Horses. — Aptness in Training 
Them. — Discovers an Improved Method. — Its Perfect Success. — Wild Prairie Horses Subdued. — 
Determines to Exhibit Abroad. — His Skill Challenged in London. — "Crui.ser" to be the Great Test. 
— Rage and Fury of the Animal. — Plunging, Rearing, Yelling, Biting. — Rarey's Complete Triumph. — 
Monarehs and Princes Present. — Tlieir Surprise and Delight — Victoria's Rapturous Applause. — 
Exhibitions in the United States. — Terrible Cases Dealt With. — Rarey Always Conqueror. — His 
Calm, Fine, Firm Voice. — Cool, Quiet, Quick Movements. — Magnetism of Ilis Presence. — Details of 
the Svstem. 



" I can lireak any animal, of whatever aje or habits, in the world. I can make any aniraa: sensible of my power— malie him gentle ael 
even affectionate."— Mr. Rabet, at Niblu's Gakue.^, New Vukk. 




" CBUISER," DNT.1MED. 



T'T OVEL and extraordinary, to a degree bordering 
^^' on the marvelous, were the exhibitions 

with which the name of John S. Earey, 
of Oliio, became so popularly identified, 
both in America and Europe, in the 
management of that noblest, as well as 
most useful and beautiful, of animals, the 
horse. Wondering and delighted crowds 
attended these exhibitions, in all 
the principal cities of this country ; 
and, abroad, crowned heads and 
titled dignitaries were among the 
gifted champion's most enthusias- 
tic auditors, — and there, as well as 
at home, every American felt a 
just pride in the laurels achieved 
by their countryman. Such a 
decided sensation, — at once so 
exciting, pleasant, and universal, may well have a place in the 
national gallery of things noteworthy and agreeable. Surely, 
few, if any, of the marvels recorded in that wonderful French 
book, "The Great Wiaard," which Dr. R. Shelton McKenzie 



510 



EAEEY'S FEATS OF HORSE-TAMING. 



has given to the English reader in so fasci- 
nating a dress, can be said to equal the 
feats performed by the very practical wiz- 
ard of Ohio, in the different cities of the 
Union in 1861, and which cast all that is 
merely ideal or legerdemain far and for- 
ever into the shade. 

At the time of these astonishing tri- 
umphs, Mr. Rarej' was a slightly built 
man, about thirty years of age. He was 
the son of a stock farmer and breeder of 
horses, who lived in Franklin countj', Ohio, 
and was himself engaged in a similar occu- 
pation at a place called Groveport, about 
ten miles from Columbus, the capital of 
that state. From boyhood he is , tated to 
have exhibited an intense fondi 'ss for 
horses and a remarkable aptitude for 
breaking and training them after the old 
fashion, until he discovered a more humane 
mode of treatment, and which he soon 
put into practice with the greatest success 
in his native state. The subjects on which 
he operated were in many cases horses 
reclaimed in a perfectly wild condition 
from the western prairies, and in the 
course of his experience he had several of 
his limbs broken, but without at all damp- 
ening his enthusiasm or diminishing his 
faith. 

Appreciating the Englishnian's superior 
love anc* care for the horse, Mr. Earey 
visited England at the outset of his career, 
for the purpose of exhibiting and introduc- 
ing his cystem of training in that country. 
Hfs success was such as to elicit the most 
unbounded admiration, mingled with at 
least an equal degree of astonishment, on 
the part of audiences the most crowded 
and brilliant, including veteran horse- 
trainers from far and near. Among the 
latter class, were not a few who regarded 
the American performer with somewhat of 
professional jealousy, and it was not long 
before the following challenge of his skill 
was received by him from a high source : 
" Mr. Earey is a public man, and of course 
exposed to criticism. Some of his experi- 
ments have proved successful, but there 
has not been time enough to develop 
whether the docility of these norses upon 



whom he has operated is as durable as he 
alleges. If, however, he would ' walk over 
the course,' and set criticism at defiance, 
let him go down some morning to Mur- 
reirs Green, with a few of his aristocratic 
friends, and try, ' Cruiser,' and if he can 
ride him as a hack I guarantee him immor- 
tality, and an amount of ready money that 
would make a British bank director's 
mouth water. The 'initiated' will not be 
surprised at my selecting Cruiser; but as 
the public may be ignorant of him, I will 
append some particulars of his history: 
Cruiser was the property of Lord Dor- 
chester, and was a favorite of the Derby 
in Wild Daj'nell's j'ear, but broke down 
about a month before the race. Like all 
horses of Venison blood, his temper was not 
of the mildest kind, and his owner was glad 
to get rid of him. When started for Eaw- 
cliffe, the man who had him in charge was 
told on no account to put him in a stable, 
as he would never get him out. This 
injunction was of course disregarded, for 
when the man wanted some refreshment 
he put Cruiser in the public stable and 
left him. To get him out, the roof of the 
building had to be ripped off. At Eaw- 
cliffe. Cruiser was alwaj-s exhibited by a 
groom with a ticket-of-leave bludgeon in 
his hand, and few were bold enough to 
venture into the animal's inclosure, the 
cordial wish of every visitor being ' that 
some friendly bullet would lay him low.' 
This animal, then, whose temper has 
depreciated his value perhaps a thousand 
pounds, I think would be ' the right horse 
in the right place,' to try Mr. Earey's 
skill ; and as the locale is so near London, 
the sooner the experiment is made the 
better." This challenge was no sooner 
received than accepted, and, as the vicious- 
ness and ferocity of Cruiser had hitherto 
utterly baffled every attempt at subjection, 
the trial of Mr. Earey's skill was looked 
forward to with i^itense interest. 

Cruiser's habit, it appears, was to 
scream and yell when anj' one approached 
him, to smash up his stall " into lucifer 
matches," and to attempt to bite and de- 
stroy every living thing in his neighbor- 



RAREY'S FEATS OF HORSE-TAMING. 



oil 



hood. Noblemen used to go and throw 
articles into his brick box, in order to see 
him fight. When he was to be fed or 
watered, the first proceeding with his 
groom was to ascertain, by thrusting a long 
pole in at the stable door, where the en- 
emy stood, and then to deposit the food, 
shut the door, and vanish as soon as pos- 
sible. 3Ii: Rareij changed all this in a 
moment, as it were. He ordered the sta- 
ble door to be thrown open, introduced 
himself according to his system, without 
delay, and in half an hour the indomitable 
Cruiser might be ridden by a child, could 
listen tranquill}^ to the beating of a drum, 
and stand serene even if an umbrella 
were flourished in his face. Gentle as a 
lamb, he followed his teacher about the 
arena like a dog, stopping when he jjointed 
his finger, lying down when he was told, 
rising again when he obtained permission, 
and doing all this in a mild, good-humored 
sort of waj', as if the wish to oblige was 
the sole ruling motive, and that the now 
docile Cruiser was totallj- unaware of that 
terrible array of whips and spurs, bits and 
muzzles, with which his first teachers had 
sought to check his ferocity and bring him 
to reason. The speedy, easy, and com- 
plete success of Mr. Rarey, in this remark- 
able case, gave him, at once, the most flat- 
tering and exalted reputation from one end 
of Europe to the other. 

On Mr. Rarey 's appearance at Niblo's, 
in New York, he exhibited this renowned 
specimen of the equine race — an animal 
over sixteen hands high, and of immense 
bone and muscle, — and said : " When I 
went to England and exhibited there, the 
papers all said, ' This is very well, but try 
Cruiser ! ' I immediately wrote to Lord 
Dorchester, about the horse, and he replied 
that the horse could not be brought to me, 
but that I must come to him. I did go to 
him. The horse had not been out of his 
box for three years ; a brick stable had to 
be built for him, and he would have been 
shot, but he was the last of a race of splen- 
did blood-horses, and his owner was anx- 
ious to preserve him if possible. I found 
that by his biting and kicking he had so 



injured himself that he could not be taken 
out of his box, and so I had to wait for his 
recovery. I went down to see him, quietly 
and unknown, but somehow the papers got 
hold of it. and everj'body said that I dared 
not go near Cruiser." Under these cir- 
cumstances, Mr. Rare}- was detained some 
three weeks, when he went to London, 
accompanied by the now subdued steed. 

The collar and muzzle which Cruiser 
used to wear were exhibited by Mr. Rarey. 
His owner coujd place them upon him 
only by letting a rope down through the 
roof of his stall, fastening it under his 
neck, and raising him off his fore feet. 
The exhibition at Niblo's was the first 
time Cruiser had been on the stage in 
America. " We have," said Mr. Rare}-, 
" had no rehearsal ; but instead of kicking, 
as he used, he will now (as you see) give 
me his foot like a gentleman." Two 




JOHN S. RARET. 



straps were now shown, being all that had 
been used in taming this horse. Mr. 
Rarey, on being asked 'to explain, more 
particularly, how he approached Cruiser, 
said: "I think horses have a reason for 
everything they do. I knew if I ap- 
proached Cruiser with a stick he would 
fight me, as he had fought others who 
came to whip him. In the box was a 
double door, so that I could open the 
upper half. I went quietly; opened the 
door noiselessly. Cruiser turned round, saw 
me, started back frightfully, but did not 
attempt to come at me. He came slowly 
up to smell of me after a whUe, and, in 
spite of Lord Dorchester's entreaties, I 



512 



EAREY'S FEATS OF HORSE-TAMING. 



stood still. Presently, when I saw that 
he stood naturally, I began to fondle him. 
Lord Dorchester begged me to tie his 
head, and I did so, but you never saw 
such fighting. Finding that he would 
either kill himself or tear down the box, I 
released him, and began all over again. 
After he allowed me to fondle him, I took 
him into the straw-}'ard, and proceeded as 
with any other horse, until at last he 
would let me take any liberty with him, 
and Lord Dorchester mounted him with 
impunity." Mr. Rarey declared that 
Cruiser was about as celebrated for his 
viciousness as he himself was for taming 
him. 

A horse of the Messenger breed, excita- 
ble and ferocious, was next operated upon. 
By gently fondling his head and caressing 
him, Mr. Rarey succeeded in managing 
him perfectly. " See," said Mr. Rarey, 
•' I place this liorse's foot upon me. There 
is no danger. He would no more tread 
heavily upon me than a mare upon her 
foal." He sat upon the animal, put his 
hoofs playfully together, and rested his 
head comj^sedly between the horse's heels. 
At first, Mr. Rarey fastened a strap round 
the horse's fore leg, so as to make him 
limp on three legs and finally kneel. 
When the second strap was attached, a 
struggle ensued, which ended in the ani- 
mal's lying down, and here the art of Mr. 
Rarey, in its perfect adaptedness to the 
end sought, was made apparent. 

Next in course was a wild horse from 
South America, which threw Mr. Rarey 
several times, plunging, rearing, and bit- 
ing with rage and fury. On his leg, too, 
Mr. Rarey attached the fatal straji, and, 
after a prolonged struggle, the animal was 
thrown, and his conquerer was upon him. 
After rising up and sitting down again on 
the horse's back several times, in order to 
accustom the horse to the sensation, Mr. 
Rarey raised him up, and, addressing the 
audience from the animal's back, said : 
"It is entirely wrong to leap upon a 
horse's back and hold fast, no matter how 
frightened he may be. There is now a 
perfect understanding between us. All 



horses like me after this process. They 
all come to me gladhj. This is the test of 
breaking : If they fly away from you, then 
know you have treated them badly ; if 
they come to j'ou, the}' know j'ou are a 
friend." No better illustration of the 
truth of these remarks was needed than the 
case then in hand. 

Perhaps the most brilliant and magnifi- 
cent reception ever accorded in Europe to 
a private, untitled American, was on the 
occasion of Mr. Rarey's performances in 
London, when there were present the 
Queen, Prince Albert, the princess royal, 
the Prince of Wales, Prince Alfred, and 
other members of the royal family, with 
the ladies of the court and most of the 
foreign princes and distinguished visitors 
then in the metropolis, including Prince 
Frederick William of Prussia, the prince 
of Prussia ; the Princes Frederick Charles, 
Albert, Frederick Albert, and Adelbert, of 
Prussia; Prince Hohenzollern Sigmarin- 
geu, the Duke of Saxe Coburg and Gotha, 
the Duke of Brabant, the Count of Flan- 
ders, Prince William of Baden, Prince 
Edward of Saxe Weimer, and Prince Jul- 
ius of Holstein Glucksburg. The Duke 
of Wellington, Major-General Sir Richard 
Airey, Lord Paget, and countless other 
dignitaries were also present. 

The subjects on which Mr. Rarey oper- 
ated were decided cases. One was a fine- 
spirited black horse, of high nervous tem- 
perament, which had been returned to Mr. 
Anderson, of Picadilly, of whom he had 
been bought for a large sum of money, on 
the ground of his being all but unmanage- 
able. At the first private interview of 
Mr. Rare}' with this horse, the animal was 
placed in a loose box, which Mr. Rarey 
entered, cracking a whip. Startled by 
this unusual exhibition of violence, the 
horse struck out with both his hind legs, 
and uttered a kind of savage yell. The 
comjiany who had assembled to witness 
the experiment were then asked to with- 
draw, and Mr. Rarey was left alone with 
the horse. On being called in again, in 
less than quarter of an hour, they were 
amazed to find the animal prostrate on his 



RAREY'S FEATS OF HORSE-TAMING. 



513 



side among the straw in the stall, with 
his head slightly raised, and Mr. Rarey, 
whom he was eyeing without the slightest 
symptom of alarm, lying beside him. Mr. 
Rarey remained with him in this position 
for some time, during which he knocked 
the horse's fore and hind hoofs together, 
made a pillow of his thighs, and finally got 
up and ran a heavy wheelbarrow up to and 
around the still prostrate creature, without 
producing in him the slightest sensation 
of fear. Subsequently, the mastery of 
Mr. Rarey became so complete over this 
horse, that, when laid on his side in a 
loose box, a plank was placed against his 
shoulder in sight of the horse, and a bar- 
row run up it. He never moved. A 
drum was also beaten on his back, and an 
umbrella opened in his very face ; but he 
remained stock still, and evinced no sign 
of apprehension. 

The next subject on which Mr. Rarey 
experimented was a young unbroken colt, 
brought from Prince Albert's farm, and 
which had never been handled in any 
way. This colt was led into the arena in 
halter, and, after being left alone with the 
horse-tamer a few minutes, the company 
saw, as in the former case, this wild colt 
lying on the ground, and the horse-tamer 
by his side, who sat upon him and handled 
his legs, feet, and every other part by 
turns, — a process during which the creat- 
ure remained as gentle and passive as a 
child. 

After Mr. Rarey had parted with the 
colt, a handsome bay-charger, belonging to 
Prince Albert, was brought forward. This 
horse was one of high spirit, which had 
always shown great restlessness while be- 
ing mounted and a constant tendency to 
take fright, and, it was thought, would 
thoroughly defy all of Mr. Rarey's at- 
tempts to tame him. In a short time, 
however, the horse-tamer had him down 
also, as submissive as all the rest, and was 
seen crawling among his legs, sitting ujjon 
his shoulders and hips, and knocking his 
hoofs together. Then, bidding the horse 
rise, which he did instantly, Mr. Rarey 
jumped upon his back, and held by turns 



an umbrella over his head and beat a tat- 
too on a drum, the hitherto proud, restless 
animal, now owning subjection to a new 
master, remaining the while almost as 
motionless as a statue. 

All these remarkable feats were watched 
throughout with the most intense interest 
— the Queen, in the enthusiasm of the 
moment, herself rapturously applauding 
with her own hands, and the whole com- 
pany joining in prolonged demonstrations 
of astonishment and delight. 

In Paris, Mr. Rarej^'s method produced 
unbounded excitement. In order to put 
the system to a vigorous test, the emperor 
caused to be purchased, at Caen, a four- 
year-old horse, by "Tipple Cider," noted 
for its violence, and for kicking furiously 
whenever an attempt was made to put a 
crupper on it. In the space of four days, 
this horse was as docile with the saddle 
and the harness as could be desired, and 
he allowed a whip to be cracked about his 
head, and a drum to be beaten on his back, 
without any manifestation of fear. 

Another most notable case was that of a 
stallion belonging to the government, and 
which was so untamable, so vicious, so 
furious, in fact, that a resolution had been 
adopted to kill it. The animal was lent 
for the purpose by M. de Baylen, and as 
many as three hundred members of the 
Jockey and other clubs assembled to see 
what Mr. Rarey could do with him. In 
company with this horse, which arrived 
with a noose-band on, and muzzled, and 
led by^ two men, Mr. Rarey fastened him- 
self up in a stall, and, in an hour after, he 
came out mounted on its back. Although 
the horse had always previously bitten the 
legs of everyone who mounted him, he was 
then perfectly quiet ; and though the very 
sight of a whip was accustomed to put it 
in a fury, it received a correction as qui- 
etly as the best broken-in horse would 
have done. The members of the Jockey 
Club were astonished at what they wit- 
nessed, and broke out into loud acclamar 
tions of admiration, after which they 
gathered round Mr. Rarey to compliment 
him. 



514 



EAEEY'S FEATS OF HOESE-TAMING. 



In London, again, Mr. Earey tested his 
skill successfully, in the space of an hour, 
on a famous bay mare, long pronounced 
incurable — who was so dangerous to ap- 
proach in any way that she could not be 
ridden, would strike with her fore feet like 
a pugilist, and kick as well with her hind 
feet. So savage was she, that no horse- 
man had been able to ascertain her age by 
looking at her teeth ; yet Mr. Earey not 
only opened her mouth, but jiut his hand 
into it several times, and told his audi- 
ence that, in his opinion, she was eight 
years old. Great cheers followed this tri- 
umph of skill, but it was to be still 



vast audience — who sat in silence and sur- 
prise almost approaching to awe — was 
greeted at its close with rounds of ap- 
plause, and Mr. Earey was tumultuously 
called for twice to receive an ovation of 
cheers. 

Visiting Eussia, a special exhibition 
was given, by request, before the emperor 
and his court. All etiquette was laid 
aside by the royal spectators — the em- 
peror, and empress, and all present, enter- 
ing into the humors of the evening with a 
hearty abandonment, not only deeply grat- 
ified at the novelty of the entertainment, 
but also with the privilege of giving vent 




3IR. BABEY EXHIBITINO HIS CELEBRATED METHOD OF TAMING HORSES. 



further demonstrated on a thorough-bred, 
high-spirited Arabian stallion, extremely 
vicious, perfectly uncontrollable, biting at 
every one that approached him, and that 
would not suffer himself to be bridled ex- 
cept blindfolded. On his arrival on this 
occasion, at the railway station, he knocked 
down his groom by kicking him on the 
head ; and on being taken into the ring, 
nearly broke the arm of the man who led 
him in, by striking him with his fore feet. 
Mr. Earey, notwithstanding, succeeded 
after a desperate struggle, which lasted 
for about an hour, in rendering him as 
tractable as a lamb. This feat, which was 
witnessed throughout by the whole of the 



to their natural feelings. That nothing 
might be wanting to fulfill the object of 
the exhibition, the emperor had shrewdly 
availed himself of his varied resources, in 
in procuring such an animal as would test 
Mr. Earey's powers to the greatest extent 
— the Eussian wilds affording, as is well 
known, fearful specimens of untutored and 
savage horse life. At a certain signal, 
therefore, a perfectly wild brute from the 
Steppes was brought into the arena, and 
for the first time introduced to Mr. Earey's 
notice. Two peasants, themselves semi- 
barbarous, awed by the presence of the 
emperor, and filled with intense fear by 
the plunging and rearing of the horse in 



EAREY'S FEATS OF HORSE-TAMING. 



515 



their charge, with difficulty restrained him 
from breaking away, biting their flesh, 
or knocking their brains out with his 
heels, which at times cleaved the air with 
fearful velocity, for the infuriated animal, 
in the insanity of his captivity, absolutely 
bit at interposing objects as if he were a 
tiger. Mr. Rarey, perfectly self-possessed, 
and to the surprise of all present, boldly 
laid his hand upon his neck, and then 
passed it gently over the ears, and in a 
few moments ordered the peasants to un- 
loose their rigorous hold on tlie ropes, 
when Mr. Rarey proceeded to further pac- 
ify the creature, his success being com- 
plete. The emperor and the imperial 
family looked on with amazement, while 
the two peasants were struck dumb with 
awe and wonder — the effect being height- 
ened whan the emperor, half sternly and 
half playfully, asked them " why they 
could not thus handle the horse ! " 

One of the worst specimens that Mr. 
Rarey had to deal with in America, was a 
New York car-horse, — a very bad kicker, 
striking with her fore feet, allowing no 
one to approach her in her stable, very 
treacherous, and giving no warning. When 
the horse appeared upon the stage, it 
■was pronounced a tough-looking customer 
enough, — thin, wiry, dirty, stubborn, vic- 
ious, evil-eyed. It had not been shod 
except with all its feet tied, and then with 
difficulty. Every time Mr. Rarey touched 
it, the horse kicked most savagely. First 
one little strap was tied on, however, and 
then another. The horse fell easily, as it 
had been used to be thrown thus to he 
shod. But, when the straps were taken 
off, and Rarey began his familiarities, then 
came the tug of war. It was kick and 
bite, soothe and fondle, get up and fall 
down, until at last the struggling beast 
completely succumbed to the tamer's 
kindness. Mr. Rarey's head lay be- 
tween those formidable hoofs ; his hand 
unloosed the bridle which had not been 
removed for months ; he played black- 
smith, too, hammering at the shoe without 
any difficulty, and curing the last bit of 
restlessness by turning the horse round 



and round awhile. Mr. Rarey led off the 
subdued old equine hag with as much com- 
placency as if biting and kicking had 
never been known. The astonishment of 
the owner, who knew the horse so well, 
only outran that of the audience. 

The theory proclaimed by Mr. Rarey, 
in his lectures and performances, was, that 
hitherto the mode of treating this noble 
animal — at least in the preliminary stages 
of breaking, etc., — had proceeded on ideas 
of his nature altogether erroneous and 
cruel, and been invariably characterized 
by unnecessary violence, provoking the 
display of resistance and other kindred 
qualities on his part, and so the evil has 
been perpetuated. On the other hand, 
the principle advocated by Mr. Rarey and 
constituting the key to his success — that of 
extreme kindness and tenderness, — con- 
vinces the animal that man is his natural 
master and friend, and elicits his confi- 
dence and kindly regard. Appealing to 
" the intellect and affections of the horse," 
as the basis of his sj'stem of treatment, 
Mr. Rarey was enabled to say, to his vast 
and admiring audience at Niblo's Garden, 
New Y^ork : 

"I have never had an accident since I 
became perfect in my system, and I don't 
fear any. I have been among horses since 
I was twelve years old, and at first had n 
great many accidents. Every limb has 
been broken, except my right an.-. ; but be- 
ing young, when these accidents happened, 
the bones fortunately healed strongly. 
Now I know horses' every thought, and 
can break any animal, of whatever age 
and habits, in the world. I can make any 
animal sensible of my power — make him 
gentle and even affectionate." 

The mechanical process employed in 
this system, as described, consists in fast- 
ening one fore leg by a strap — first allow- 
ing the horse to see and smell it — passed 
- around the pastern and buckled close to 
the forearm. Another strap is then fast- 
ened to the pastern of the other fore leg, 
and is either passed under a belt, previ- 
ously buckled about the horse's body, and 
its end held in one hand, or it may be held 



616 



RAREY'S FEATS OF HORSE-TAMING. 



over his back. The liorse is then gently 
urged forward, and as he raises his free 
fore foot to step, it is pulled from under 
him by the operator. This brings him 
upon his knees. A struggle ensues, in 
which the man is sure to be the victor. 
Next, by a sufiScient pressure, the horse is 
thrown upon his side and lies helpless. 
The operator then soothes him with the 
hand and voice, removes the straps, and 
after a short period allows him to rise. 
A single application is generally sufficient. 
Mr. Rarey's cool, quiet, quick move- 
ments, his calm, fine, firm voice, gave to 
his presence a peculiar magnetism and 
contributed greatly to his power over the 
horse ; so that, in this respect, he achieved 
a world-wide reputation, without a peer or 
rival to divide his fame. The courage and 
self-possession exhibited by him were ex- 
traordinary, — a patience, too, that nothing 
could wear out, and a temper that nothing 
could ruflSe. Never in a hurry, he went 
through his work in a way that showed it 
in be, to him, a labor of love, 'x'here was 



no mystery, no charm, no drugs, employed 
by him in his performances. He ex- 
plained everything he was about to do, 
and gave a reason for it; and then, by 
doing it, successfully proved that his rear 
soniug was correct. At the end of the 
performance, the horse would walk quietly 
about without the slightest appearance of 
excitement or fatigue. But, while thus 
sparing the horse, Mr. Rarey evidently 
took an immensity of work out of himself, 
seemingly undergoing a sustained mental 
strain, in order that the horse, whose 
instinct is so sharp, might not see the 
slightest faltering in his proceedings. 
His system, a slow and gentle, but irre- 
sistible pressure, aimed not to crush, but 
to subdue, and, to this end, perfect self- 
control was indispensable. If, therefore, 
at the most critical moment, he required 
a riding-whip or a pocket handkerchief, he 
called for it as coolly as one would for a 
glass of lemonade, or as Nelson called for 
the sealing-wax during the bombardment 
of Copenhagen. 



LXIII. 

BATTLE AT BULL RUN, VA., BETWEEN" THE FEDERAL 
AND CONFEDERATE ARMIES.— 1861. 



First Important Engagement in the Great CiTil War. — Severe Fighting for Many Hours. — Most Disas- 
trous Defeat of the Federal Troops. — Their Uncontrollable Panic and Headlong Flight. — The South 
Jubilant. — Gloom and Humiliation of the Loyal States. — Three Months Since Sumter Fell. — Armies 
Massed at Washington and Richmond. — Threats Against the Federal Capital. — Irritation and Impa- 
tience of the North. — "On to Richmond!" the Union WarCry. — March of McDowell's Army. — 
Plan of the Movement. — Rousing the Southern Forces. — Their Unexpected Strength. — Uncertain 
Fate of the Day. — Re-enforcement for Confederates. — Davis's Arrival on the Ground. — He Exclaims, 
"Onward, My Brave Comrades!" — Their AVild Enthusiasm. — A Lost Battle for the Union. — Com- 
plete Demoralization. — Three Miles of Scattered Troops. — Arms, Stores, etc.. Flung Away — Dis- 
tressing Sights and Sounds. — Thanksgiving Appointed by Davis. — Te Deums Sung in the Souihem 
Churches. — Lessons Taught by tliis Battle. 



" The sainted patriots cry, "It cahnot brI" 

From heaven thev speuk, and from ttieir graves revered; 

The God who gave iheni vietory will not pee 

The temple shattered which their toil has reared!'' 




MOlfUMBNT ON THE BATTLE-FIELD. 



'ORE than three months had passed since the cap 
ture of Fort Sumter, and, during this exciting 
period, throughout the country, the great contend- 
ing parties had massed, respectively, immense todies 
of troops at Washington and Richmond, and their 
vicinities. So deep was the indignation felt by the 
upholders of the national cause, at the fall of Sum- 
ter, and at the various hostile movements and expe- 
ditions by the confederates which followed that 
event, — such as the fearless assault made upon the 
federal soldiers while passing through Baltimore, 
the destruction of railroads and telegraphs, the 
seizure of Northerners' property at the South, the 
loss of the Norfolk navy yard, the rout at and the 
defiant threats of an advance on Washington, — that 
the cry of " On to Richviond," into which city the 
confederate forces had poured from every part of 
the South, both for defensive and aggressive opera- 
tions, was heard on every side. Indeed, the pa- 
tience of the North had become strained to its 
utmost tension toward those whose alleged official 
inactivity or tardiness was the assumed cause of the 
insurgent army not having been, long since, scat- 
tered and destroyed. 



5] 8 



BATTLE OF BULL RUN, VA. 



There were of course those who did not 
share this impetuosity, — knowing well the 
capacities of defense peculiar to Richmond 
and its approaches, and keenly comprehend- 
ing the disastrous effect upon the loyal 
states of a lost battle in the open field, 
immediately after the siege and reduction 
of Sumter. 

To the pressure, however, of this almost 
universal demand for an "onward move- 
ment," General Scott at last yielded, and, 
on the 21st of July, 1861, the first really 
important engagement between the union 
and confederate forces took place on the 
banks of a stream called Bull Run, a few 
miles to the north-west of Manassas Junc- 
tion, Va., and about thirty miles south of 
the Potomac at Washington. It was on 
the 16th of July, that the union army, 
commanded by General McDowell, and 
officered by Generals Tyler, Hunter, 
Richardson, Heintzelman, Patterson, and 
Miles, commenced its march, the whole 
number of men being some forty-five thou- 
sand. The confederate force which they 
were soon to encounter, was much larger, 
and consisted of the division of General 
Beauregard, intrenched at Manassas Junc- 
tion, re-enforced by the division under 
General Johnston, previously stationed at 
Winchester, in the valley of the Shenan- 
doah, and a large body of reserves advanced 
from Richmond and Aquia Creek. 

On the 17th, the union army, in three 
columns, continued their line of march, 
the advance column occupying Fairfax 
Court House about one hour before noon, 
the confederates withdrawing as the union- 
ists advanced. The cavalry pushed on to 
Centreville ; and, on the 18th, the army 
took up its march for the same place. The 
advance, to this date, had been steadily 
made on all sides, and the reported posi- 
tions of the troops considered good at head- 
quarters. In the afternoon, an engage- 
ment took place at Blackburn's Ford. But 
the character of this conflict, as well as the 
general plan of the whole movement, will be 
best understood by presenting here the im- 
portant portion of General McDowell's offi- 
cial report, or an abstract of the same. 



On the evening of July 20th, McDow- 
ell's command was mostly at or near Cen- 
treville, and the confederate forces at or 
near Manassas, about seven miles to the 
south-west. Centreville is a place of a few 
houses, mostly on the west side of a ridge 
running nearlj- north and south. The 
road from Centreville to Manassas Junc- 
tion is along this ridge, crossing Bull Run 
about three miles from the former place. 
The Warrenton turnpike, which runs 
nearly east and west, goes over this ridge, 
through the village, and crosses Bull Run 
about four miles from it, Bull Run having 
a course between the crossing from north- 
west to south-east. The first division, 
Tyler's, was stationed on the north side of 
the Warrenton turnpike, and on the east- 
ern slope of the Centreville ridge, two 
brigades on the same road, and a mile and 
a half in advance, to the west of the ridge, 
and one brigade on the road from Centre- 
ville to Manassas, where it crosses Bull 
Run at Blackburn's Ford. The second 
division, Hunter's, was on the Warrenton 
turnpike, one mile east of Centreville. 
The third division, Heintzelman's, was on 
a road known as the Old Braddock road, 
which comes into Centreville from the 
south-east, about a mile and a half from 
the village. The fifth division, Miles's, 
was on the same road with the third divis- 
ion, and between it and Centreville. 

The fight at Blackburn's Ford, on the 
18th, showed that the confederates were 
too strong at that point for the unionists 
to force a passage there without great loss, 
and, from all the information that could be 
obtained, McDowell found that his only 
alternative was to turn the extreme left of 
the confederate position. Reliable infor- 
mation was also obtained of an undefended 
ford about three miles above the bridge, 
there being another ford between it and 
the bridge, which was defended. It was 
therefore determined to take the road to 
the upper ford, and, after crossing, to get 
behind the forces guarding the lower ford 
and the bridge, and after occupying the 
Warrenton road east of the bridge, to send 
out a force to destroy the railroad at or 



BATTLE OF BULL RUN, VA. 



519 



near Gainesville, and thus break up the 
wmmunication between the confederate 
forces at Manassas and those in the valley 
of Virginia, before Winchester, which had 
been held in check by Major-General Pat- 
terson. Brigadier-General Tyler had been 
directed to move with three of his brigades 
on the Warrenton road, and commence 
cannonading the enemy's batteries, while 
Hunter's division, moving after him, 
should, after passing a little stream called 
Cub Run, turn to the right and north, and 
move around to the upper ford, and there 
turn, south and get behind the enemy. 
Heintzelman's division was to follow Hun- 
ter's as far as the turning off place to the 
lower ford, where he was to cross after the 
enemy should have been driven out by 




Hunter's division; the fifth division, 
Miles's, to be in reserve on the Centreville 
ridge. The fourth division, Runyon's, 
had not been brought to the front farther 
than to guard the federal communications 
by way of Vienna and the Orange and 
Alexandria railroad. 

The divisions, says General McDowell, 
were ordered to march at half-past two 
o'clock, A. M., so as to arrive on the ground 
early in the day, and thus avoid the heat. 
There was delay in the first division get- 
ting out of its camp on the road, and the 
other divisions were in consequence be- 



tween two and three hours behind the time 
appointed — a great misfortune, as events 
turned out. General Tyler commenced 
with his artillery at half-past six A. M., 
but the enemy did not reply, and after 
some time it became a question whether he 
was in any force in our front, and if he did 
not intend himself to make an attack, and 
make it by Blackburn's Ford. After firing 
several times, and obtaining no response, I 
held, (says this officer,) one of Heintzel- 
man's brigades in reserve, in case we should 
have to send any troops back to re-enforce 
Miles's division. The other brigades 
moved forward as directed in the general 
orders. On reaching the ford, at Sudley's 
Spring, I found part of the leading brig- 
ade of Hunter's division, Burnside's, had 
crossed, but the men were slow in 
getting over, stopping to drink. As 
at this time the clouds of dust from 
the direction of Manassas indicated 
the immediate approach of a large 
force, and fearing it might come 
down on the head of the column be- 
fore the division could all get over 
and sustain it, orders were sent back 
to the heads of regiments to break 
from the column and come forward 
separately as fast as possible. Orders 
were sent by an officer to the reserve 
brigade of Heintzelman's division to 
come by a nearer road across the 
fields, and an aid-de-camp was sent to 
Tyler to direct him to press forward 
his attack, as large bodies of the 
enemy were passing in front of him 
to attack the division which had crossed 
over. The ground between the stream 
and the road leading from Sudley's 
Spring south and over which Burnside's 
brigade marched, was for about a mile 
from the ford thickly wooded, whilst on 
the right of the road, for about the same 
distance, the country was divided between 
fields and woods. About a mile from the 
road, the country on both sides of the 
road is open, and, for nearly a mile 
further, large rolling fields extend down 
to the Warrenton turnpike, which crosses 
what became the field of battle, through 



520 



BATTLE OF BULL EUN, VA. 



the valley of a small water course, a tribu- 
tary of Bull Run. 

Concerning the general action, the offi- 
cial report says : Shortly after the leading 
regiment of the first brigade reached the 
open space, and whilst others and the 
second brigade were crossing to the front 
and right, the enemy opened his fire, 
beginning with artillery and following up 
with infantry. The leading brigade, Burn- 
side's, had to sustain this shock for a short 
time without support, and did it well. 
The battalion of regular infantry was sent 
to sustain it, and shortly afterwards the 
other corps of Porter's brigade, and a reg- 
iment detached from Heintzelman's divis- 
ion to the left, forced the enemy back far 
enough to allow Sherman's and Keyes's 
brigades of Tyler's division to cross from 
their position on the Warrenton road. 
These drove the right of the enemy from 
the front of the field, and out of the de- 
tached woods, and down to the road, and 
across it up the slopes on the other side. 
Whilst this was going on, Heintzelman's 
division was moving down the field to the 
stream, and up the road beyond. Be3'ond 
the Warrenton road, and to the left of the 
road, down which our troops had marched 
from Sudley's Spring, is a hill with a 
farmhouse on it. Behind this hill, the 
enemy had, early in the day, some of his 
most annoying batteries planted. Across 
the road from this hill was another hill, 
and the hottest part of the contest was for 
the possession of this hill with a house on 
it. The force engaged here was Heintzel- 
man's division, Wilcox's and Howard's 
brigades on the right, supported by part 
of Porter's brigade and the cavalry under 
Palmer, and Franklin's brigade of Heint- 
zelman's division, Sherman's brigade of 
Tyler's division in the center and up the 
road, whilst Keyes's brigade of Tyler's 
division was on the left, attacking the bat- 
teries near the stone bridge. The Rhode 
Island battery of Burnside's brigade also 
participated in this attack by its fire from 
the north of the turnpike. Rickett's bat- 
tery, which did such effective service and 
Dlayed so brilliant a part in this contest. 



was, together with Griffin's battery, on the 
side of the hill, and became the object of 
the enemy's special attention, who suc- 
ceeded — our officers mistaking one of his 
regiments for one of our own, and allowing 
it to approach without firing upon it — in 
disabling the battery, and then attempted 
to take it. Three times was he repulsed 
by different corps in succession, and 
driven back, and the guns taken by hand, 
the horses being killed, and pulled away. 
The third time it was supposed bj' all that 
the repulse was final, for he was driven 
entirely from the hill, and so far beyond 
it as not to be in sight, and all were cer- 
tain the day was ours. He had before this 
been driven nearly a mile and a half, and 
was beyond the Warrenton road, which 
was entirely in our possession from the 
stone bridge westward, and our engineers 
were just completing the removal of the 
abattis across the road, to allow our re-en- 
forcements — Schenck's brigade and Aj'ers'a 
battery — to join us. 

After describing the condition of the 
confederate army at this time as disheart- 
ened and broken. General McDowell ex- 
plaiiiS some of the causes that led to the 
disastrous fate which befell the federal 
army. They had been fighting since half- 
past ten o'clock in the morning, and it was 
after three in the afternoon. The men had 
been up since two o'clock in the morning, 
and had made what to those unused to 
such things seemed a long march before 
coming into action, though the longest 
distance gone over was not more than nine 
and a half miles ; and though they had 
three days' provisions served out to them 
the day before, many no doubt either did 
not cat them, or threw them away on the 
march or during the battle, and were 
therefore without food. They had done 
much severe fighting. Some of the regi- 
ments which had been driven from the 
hill in the first two attempts of the enemy 
to get possession of it had become shaken, 
were unsteady, and had many men out of 
the ranks. 

It was at this time, says McDowell, 
that the enemy's rc-enforcementa came to 



BATTLE OF BULL EUN, VA. 



521 



his aid from the railroad train. They 
threw themselves in the woods on our 
right and towards the rear of our right, 
and opened a fire of musketry on our men, 
which caused them to break and retire 
down the hillside. This soon degenerated 
into disorder, for which there was no rem- 
edy. Every effort was made to rally them, 
even beyond the reach of the enemy's fire, 
but in vain. The battalion of regular 
infantry alone moved up the hill opposite 
to the one with the house on it, and there 
maintained itself until our men could get 
down to and across the Warrenton turn- 
pike, on the way back to the position we 
occupied in the morning. The plain was 
covered with the retreating troops, and 




many without officers, they became inter- 
mingled, and all organization was lost. 

The onset of that tumultuous retreat is 
described by those who witnessed it as ter- 
rific. For three miles, hosts of federal 
troops — all detached from their regiments, 
all mingled in one disorderly rout — were 
fleeing along the road, but mostly through 
the lots on either side. Army wagons, 
sutlers' teams, and private carri.iges, 
choked the passage, tumbling against eai h 
other, amid clouds of dust, and sickening 
sights and sounds. Hacks, containing 
unlucky spectators of the battle, were 
smashed like glass, and the occupants were 
lost sight of in the dehris. Horses, flying 
wildly from the battle-field, many of them 
in death agony, galloped at random for- 
ward, joining in the stampede. Those 
on foot who could catch them rode them 
bare-back, as much to save themselves 
from being run over, as to make quicker 
time. Wounded men, lying along the 
banks — the few neither left on the field 
nor taken to the captured hospitals — 
appealed with raised hands to those 
who rode horses, begging to be lifted 
behind, but few regarded such peti- 
tions. Then the artillery, such as was 
saved, came thundering along, smashing 
, and overpowering everything. The cav- 

-^/i/Ti " '^''■>' ^'^'^'^^ *° ^^ **^^° terrors, for they 
' ^-^ rode down footmen without mercy. 



they seemed to infect those with whom 
they came in contact. The retreat soon 
became a rout, and this soon degenerated 
into a panic. Finding this state of affairs 
was beyond the efforts of all those who 
had assisted so faithfully during the long 
and hard day's work in gaining almost the 
object of their wishes, and that nothing 
remained on the field but to recognize 
what could no longer be prevented. Gen- 
eral McDowell gave the necessary orders 
to protect their withdrawal, begging the 
men to form in line, and after the appear- 
ance, at least, of organization. They re- 
turned by the fords to the Warrenton road, 
protected by Colonel Porter's force of reg- 
ulars. Once on the road, and the different 
corps coming together in small parties. 



An artilleryman was seen running between 
the ponderous fore and after wheels of his 
gun-carriage, hanging on with both hands, 
and vainly striving to jump upon the 
ordnance; but the drivers were spurring 
the horses; he could not cling much longer, 
and a more agonized expression never 
fixed the features of a drowning man ; the 
carriage bounded from the roughness of a 
steep hill leading to a creek, he lost his 
hold, fell, and in an instant the great 
wheels had crushed the life out of him. 
And still the flight continued. It did not 
slack in the least until Centreville was 
reached. There the sight of the reserve 

Miles's brigade — formed in order on the 

hill, seemed somewhat to reassure the van. 
But still the teams and foot soldiers pushed 



522 



BATTLE OF BULL RUN, VA. 



on, passing their own camps and heading 
swiftly for the distant Potomac, until for 
ten miles the road over which the grand 
army had so lately marched southward, 
gay with unstained banners, and flushed 
with surety of strength, was covered with 
the fragme'its of its retreating forces, shat- 
tered and panic-stricken in a single day. 
From the branch route the trains attached 
to Hunter's division had caught the con- 
tagion of the flight, and poured into its 
already swollen current another turbid 
freshet of confusion and dismay. The 
teamsters, many of them, cut the traces of 
their horses, and galloped from their 
wagons. Others threw out their loads to 
accelerate their flight, and grain, picks, 
and shovels, and provisions of every kind, 
lay trampled in the dust for leagues. 
Thousands of muskets strewed the route, 
and when some of the fugitives were ral- 
lied and induced to form into a line, there 
was hardly one but had thrown away his 
arms. 

Many who went into the battle with 
Heintzelman and Hunter fled by the road 
over which Tyler had advanced. In the 
general race, all divisions and all regiments 
were mingled. There was not even an 
attempt to cover the retreat of Tyler's 
division. With Heintzelman's it was bet- 
ter j Lieutenant Drummond's cavalry 
troop keeping firm line, and protecting the 
artillery until its abandonment was imper- 
atively ordered. Regulars and volunteers 
shared the disorder alike. Whole batter- 
ies were left upon the field, and the cutting 
off of others was ordered when the guns 
had already been brought two miles or 
more from the battle-ground. A perfect 
frenzy was upon almost every man. Some 
cried piteously to be assisted in their help- 
lessness, and others sought to clamber into 
wagdns, the occupants resisting them with 
iayonets. Even the sentiment of shame 
had gone. Some of the better men tried 
to withstand the rush, and cried out 
against the flying groups, calling them 
"cowards, poltroons, brutes," and reviling 
them for so degrading themselves, espe- 
cially when no enemy was near. 



There were, of course, numerous excep- 
tione to the general spirit of fear and 
frenzy. Thus, when the order was given 
at head-quarters for retreat, the word was 
passed down the line to the New York 
Zouaves. " Do not ! " exclaimed a score 
of the " pet lambs " in a breath ; " Do 
not ! " " We are ordered to retreat," said 
the commander, to his brave men. 
"Wot'n thunder's that?^' responded one 
of the hard-heads, who evidently did not 
comprehend the word exactly. " Go back 
— retire," continued the commander. "Go 
back — w/tere?" "Leave the field." 
"Leave? Why, that ain't what we come 
for. We're here to fight," insisted the 
boys. " We came here with one thousand 
forty men," said the commander ; " and 
there are now six hundred left. Fall 
back, boys ! " and the " lambs " sulkily 
retired, evidently displeased with the 
order. It was these who received the first 
charge of the famous Black Horse Guard, 
a splendid corps of cavalrj', all the horses 
of which were coal-black. They came 
upon the Zouave regiment at a gallop, and 
were received by the brave firemen upon 
their poised bayonets, followed instantly 
bj' a volley, from which they broke and 
fled, though several of the Zouaves were 
cut down in the assault. They quickly 
returned, with their forces doubled — per- 
haps six or seven hundred — and again they 
dashed with fearful yells upon the excited 
Zouaves. This time they bore an Ameri- 
can flag, and a part of the Zouaves sup- 
posed for an instant that they were friends, 
whom they had originally mistaken. The 
flag was quickly thrown down, however, 
the horses dashed upon the regiment, the 
nise was discovered, and the slaughter com- 
menced. No quarter, no halting, no flinch- 
ing, marked the rapid and death-dealing 
blows of the men, as they closed in upon 
each other, in mutual madness and despera- 
tion. The brave fellows fell, the ranks filled 
up, the sabers, bowie-knives, and bayonets, 
glistened in the sunlight, horse after horse 
went down, platoon after platoon disap- 
peared, — the carnage was dreadful, the 
bravery on both sides unexampled. 



BATTLE OF BULL RUN, VA. 



523 




BATTLE OF 



Blenker's brigade did heroic service. 
Steady and watchful, he held his line 
throughout the evening, advancing his 
skirmishers at every token of attack, and 
spreading a sure protection over the multi- 
tudes who fled disordered through his col- 
umns. With three regiments he stood to 
fight against an outnumbering host al- 
ready flushed with victory and eager to 
complete its triumph. As the darkness 
increased, his post became more perilous 
and more honorable. At eleven o'clock, the 
attack came upon the advance company of 
Colonel Stahel's rifles, not in force, but 
from a body of cavalry whose successful 
passage would have been followed by a full 
force, and the consequent destruction of 
the broken hosts of the routed army. But 
the cavalry was driven back, and never 
returned, and at two in the morning, the 
great body of federal troops having passed 
and found their road to safety, the com- 



BULL RUN. 

niand was given to retreat in order, and 
the brigade fell slowly and regularly back, 
with the same precision as if on parade. 
Over and over again, Blenker begged per- 
mission to maintain his post, or even to 
advance. "Retreat!" said he in a voice 
of thunder, to the messenger from head- 
quarters, "bring me the word to go on, 
sir ! " But the command was peremptory, 
and he was left no alternative. 

As an illustration of the almost univer- 
sal lack of military order and discipline 
characterizing the conduct of the federal 
army, after being seized with panic, the 
following is in point: At five o'clock p. 
M., the New York Sixteenth and Thirty- 
first regiments being well in advance 
toward Blackburn's ford, were called upon 
to stem the tide of the Virginia cavalry, 
who were swooping at the retreating 
forces. An order from Miles, conse- 
quently, sent the First California regi- 



524 



BATTLE OF BULL RUN, VA. 



ment, under Colonel Matheson of the New 
York Thirty-second, forward to their sup- 
port ; but, though the cavalry was thus 
turned to the right about, it was found 
impossible to withstand the mad career of 
the extraordinary mass that came pouring 
back upon Centreville. The best that 
oould be done, therefore, was for the Cali- 
fornia regiment to stay just where it was, 
and, in absence of further orders, lend 
what aid it could to the protection of 
Green's battery, which was busily plying 
its fire upon the harassing approaches of 
the Virginia horse. While the Thirty- 
second was in this position, the Sixteenth 
and Thirty-first having passed within its 
range, a youthful orderly rode up to Colonel 
Matheson to inform that the Black Cav- 
alry, sheltered from his observation by a 
piece of woods, were coming upon the 
right, and if he would take a cut with his 
regiment across the fields, they would be 
turned back upon their errand. The evo- 
lution was performed, gave the protection 
that was desired, and the Black Horse 
gave up its purpose in that quarter. 
While the regiment, however, was adher- 
ing to this position, the same youth who 
had imparted the previous suggestion rode 
up to the regiment again, and told 
Matheson he had better fall back on 
Centreville, as his duty at that spot 
had been thoroughly performed. As this 
was the first sign of orders (with one 
single exception) he had received dur- 
ing the entire day, Matheson felt some 
curioaity to learn who this young lieu- 
tenant was, and whence these orders 
came ; he therefore turned sharply on 
the youth, wlio, he now perceived, could 
not be more than twenty-two or three, 
and said: 

" Young man, I would like to know your 
name." 

" I ain a son of Quartermaster-General 
Meigs." 

" By whose authority, then, do you de- 
liver me these orders ? " 

" Well, sir," replied the youth, smiling, 
"the truth is, that for the last few hours 
I have been giving all the orders for this 



division, and acting as general, too, for 
there is no general on the field." 

The fortunes of war seemed to favor the 
confederate army, in some respects quite 
unlocked for, during the day's struggle, 
though at one time their fate hung trem- 
bling in the balance. Generals Bartow and 
Bee had been stricken down ; Lieutenant- 
Colonel Johnson, of the Hampton Legion, 
had been killed; and Colonel Hampton 
had been wounded. General Beauregard, 
however, promptly offered to lead the 
Legion into action, which he executed in 
a style unsurpassable. He rode up and 
down the lines between the federal troops 
and his own men, regardless of the heavy 
firing, cheering and encouraging his 
troops. About this time, a shell struck 
his horse, taking his head off, and also 
killing the horses of two of his aids. 
General Johnston threw himself into the 
thickest of the fight, seizing the colors of 
the Georgia regiment, and rallying them 
to the charge. At this critical moment. 
General Johnston was heard to exclaim to 
General Cocke, " Oh, for four regiments !" 
His wish was answered, for in the distance 
some re-enforcements appeared. The tide 
of battle now turned in their favor, for 
Gen. Kirby Smith had arrived from Win- 
chester with four thousand men. General 
Smith heard while on the Manassas rail- 
road cars the roar of battle. He stopped 
the train and hurried his troops across the 
field to the point just where he had been 
most needed. They were at first supposed 
to be federal troops, their arrival at that 
point of the field being so c-ntirely unex- 
pected. Jefferson Davis left Richmond 
at six o'clock in the morning, and reached 
Manassas Junction at four, where, mount- 
ing ahorse, and accompanied by numerous 
attendants, he galloped to the battle-field 
just in time to join in the pursuit by a 
magnificent bod}' of cavalry. As he waved 
his hat, and exclaimed "Onward, my brave 
comrades ! " cheer after cheer went up 
from the enthusiastic host. Thus, with 
the arrival of Davis on the field, the con- 
federate army may be said to have had 
three commanders-in-chief during the 



BATTLE OF BULL KUN, VA. 



525 



&>arse of the battle. The whole south 
was, of course, jubilant over the victory 
which their arms had achieved. Te 
Deums were sung in the churches, and a 
day of thanksgiving observed. Through- 
out the north, the gloom and humilia- 
tion at this most unlooked-for defeat was 
intense. 

According to General McDowell's report, 
the federal army's losses in this engage- 
ment were 481 killed and 1,011 wounded. 
The confederate losses, according to Gen- 
eral Beauregard's report, counted up 269 
killed and 1,533 wounded. An immense 
quantity of ordnance, ammunition, etc., 
fell into the hands of the victors. 



In the summer of 1865, on the return of 
peace, a monument was erected by friends 
of the Union, about three-fourths of a mile 
beyond Bull Run bridge, in "memory of 
the patriots" who fell in this celebrated 
battle, and the dedicatory ceremonies 
consisted of a solemn dirge, the reading 
of the Episcopal burial-service, the singing 
of an original hymn composed by Pierpont, 
and addresses by Generals Wilcox, Farns- 
worth, Heintzelman, and others. The 
interest attaching to this famous battle- 
field, viewed in all its historic circum- 
stances and consequences, is not exceeded 
by that of any other on the American con- 
I tinent. 



LXIV. 

EXTRAORDINARY COMBAT BETWEEN THE IRON-CLADS 

MERRIMAC AND MONITOR, IN HAMPTON 

ROADS.— 1862. 



Sudden Appearance of the Merrimac Araont; the Federal Frigates. — Their Swift and Terrible Destmc- 
tion by Her Steel Prow. — Unexpected Arrival of the " Little Monitor " at the Scene of Action. — She 
Engages and Disablea the Monster Craft in a Four Hours' Fight. — Total Revolution in Naval War- 
fare the World Over by tliis Remarkable Contest. — How the Merrimac Changed Hands. — Burned and 
Sunk at Norfolk, Va — Her Hull Raised by the Confederates. — She is Iron Roofed and Plated. — Proof 
Against Shot and Shell. — A Powerful Steel Beak in Her Prow. — Most Formidable Vessel Afloat. — 
In Command of Commodore Buchanan. — Departs from Norfolk, March 8th — Pierces and Sinks the 
Cumberland. — Next Attacks the Congress. — The Noble Frigate Destroyed. — Fight Begun with the 
Minnesota. — Suspended at Nightfall. — Trip of the Monitor trom New York. — Her New and Singular 
Build. — Lieutenant Worden Hears of the Battles. — Resolves to Grapple wiih the Monster. — The Two 
Together, Next Day. — A Scene Never to be Forgotten. — Worden Turns the Tide of Fortune. — 
Repulse and Retreat of the Merrimaa 



" Bb it Rrsolted, bto., Thnt the thank" of ConfresD and of the American people are due, and are hereby tendered, to Lieutenants. 
L. Worden, nf the United Statei Navy, and t.. the offloem and men of the iron-clad ^tin-bnat Monitor, under his command, for the sltil) and 

Fillantry exhibited by them in the late remarkable battle between the Monitor and the rebel iron-ctad ateamer Merrimac."— RasoLUTtOM 
ASSKD BT COKOHKSa. 



UITTING the city of Norfolk, Va., on the eighth 
of March, 1862, the confederate iron-clad steam- 
ram Merrimac sailed down Elizabeth river into 
Hampton Eoads, Chesapeake Bay, and there sig- 
nalized the navai history of the civil war in Amer- 
ica by an action not only memorable beyond all 
others in that tremendous conflict, but altogether 
unprecedented in the annals of ocean warfare in 
any country or '". any age. On the abandonment 
and destruction, by fire, of the Norfolk navy yard, 
in April, 1861, by the United States officers in 
charge, among the vessels left behind was the 
steam frigate Merrimac, of four thousand tons 
burden, then under repair. In the conflagration 
she was burned to her copper-line, and down 
through to her berth-deck, which, with her spar 
and gun-<lecks, was also burned. Soon after the confederate authorities took possession 
of the navy yard, the Merrimac was raised and converted into an iron-plated man-of-war 
of the most formidable character. Immediately after this, she was placed upon the dry 




INTERIOR OF THB TOWER OF THE MONITOR. 



COMBAT BETWEEN MERRIMAC AND MONITOR. 



527 



dock, and covered with a sloping roof of 
iron plates three inches thick, the weight 
of which nearly broke her down upon the 
dock. Owing to some miscalculation when 
launched, she sank four feet deeper than 
before, and took in considerable water. She 
was, inconsequence, obliged to be docked a 
second time. Her hull was cut down to 
within three feet of her water-mark, over 
which the bomb-proof house covered her 
gun-deck. She was also iron-plated, and her 
bow and stern steel-clad, with a projecting 
snout of iron for the purpose of piercing 
an antagonist. She had no masts, and 
there was nothing to be seen over her gun- 
deck but the pilot-house and smoke-stack. 
Her bomb-proof was three inches thick, 
and consisted of wrought iron. Her arma- 
ment consisted of four eleven-inch navy 
guns, broadside, and two one-hundred- 
pounder rifled guns at the bow and stern. 
She was now named the Virginia, though 
she continued to be known as the Merri- 
mac. She was commanded by Com. Frank- 
lin Buchanan, formerly commanda)at of the 
Washington navy yard. 

The time chosen for her depaiture for 
Hampton Roads was one peculiarly adapted 
for the trial of her prowess. The federal 
fleet in that vicinity comprised the sloop- 
of-war Cumberland, the sailing-frigate 
Congress, the steam-frigates Minnesota, 
St. Lawrence, and Roanoke — the latter in 
a disabled condition from a broken shaft, 
together with a number of improvised 
gun-boats of a small grade. The Cumber- 
land and Congress were anchored before 
the entrenched federal camp at Newport 
News, the Roanoke and St. Lawrence near 
the Rip Raps, and the Minnesota in front 
of Fortress Monroe. 

On the Merrimac coming out, on Satur- 
day, the eighth of March, she stood directly 
across the roads toward Newport News. 
What followed was, according to the nar- 
rative published in the Baltimore Ameri- 
can by one who had unusually favorable 
opportunities of observation, in the order 
of occurrence given below : 

As soon as the Merrimac was made out 
aiid her direction ascertained (says the 



narrative referred to), the crews were beat 
to quarters on both the Cumberland and 
Congress, and preparations made for what 
was felt to be an almost hopeless fight, but 
the determination to make it as desperate 
as possible. The Merrimac kept straight 
on, making, according to the best estimates, 
about eight miles an hour. As she passed 
the mouth of Nansemond river, the Con- 
gress threw the first shot at her, which 
was immediately answered. The Merri- 
mac passed the Congress, discharging a 
broadside at her, — one shell from which 
killed and disabled every m.an except one 
at gun No. Ten, — and kept on toward the 
Cumberland, which she approached at full 
speed, striking her on the port side near 
the bow, her stem knocking port No. One 
and the bridle-port into one, whilst her 
ram, or snout, cut the Cumberland under 
water. Almost at the moment of collision, 
the Merrimac discharged from her forward 
gun an eleven-inch shell. This shell raked 
the whole gun-deck, killing ten men at 
gun No. One, among whom was master- 
mate John Harrington, and cutting off 
both arms and legs of quarter-gunner 
Wood. The water rushed in from the hole 
made below, and in five minutes the ship 
began, to sink by the head. Shell and 
solid shot from the Cumberland were rained 
upon the Merrimac as she passed ahead, 
but the most of them glanced off harm- 
lessly from the incline of her iron-plated 
bomb-proof. 

As the Merrimac rounded to and came 
up, she again raked the Cumberland with 
a heavy fire. At this fire, sixteen men at 
gun No. Ten were killed or wounded, and 
all subsequently carried down in the sink- 
ing ship. Advancing with increased mo- 
mentum, the Merrimac now struck the 
Cumberland on the starboard side, smash- 
ing her upper works and cutting another 
hole below the water-line. 

The ill-fated Cumberland now began to 
rapidly settle, and the scene became most 
horrible. The cock-pit was filled with the 
wounded, whom it was found impossible 
to bring up. The former magazine was 
under water, but powder was still supplied 



528 



COMBAT BETWEEN MERRIMAC AND MONITOR 



from the after-magazine, and the firing 
kept steadily up by men who knew that 
the ship was sinking under them. They 
worked desperately and unremittingly, and 
amid the din and horror of the conflict 
gave cheers for their flag and the Union, 
which were joined in by the wounded. 
The decks were slippery with blood, and 
arms and legs and chunks of flesh were 
strewed about. The Merrimac laid off at 
easy pointrblank range, discharging her 
broadsides alternately at the Cumberland 
and the Congress. The water by this time 
had reached the after-magazine of the 
Cumberland. The men, however, kept at 
work, and several cases of powder were 
passed up and the guns kept in play. A 



drowned. When the order w<ts given to 
cease firing, and to look out for their safety 
in the best way possible, numbers scam- 
pered through the port-holes, whilst others 
reached the spar-deck by the companion- 
ways. Some were unable to get out by 
either of these means, and were carried by 
the rapidly sinking ship. 

The Cumberland sank in water nearly to 
her cross-trees. She went down with her 
Jiar/ still flrjing, and, for some time after, 
it might still be seen flying from the mast 
above the water that overwhelmed the 
noble ship, — a memento of the bravest, 
most daring, and yet most hopeless defense 
that was ever made by any vessel belong- 
ing to any navy in the world. The men 







C^'C^i^ yi^Ac /'^^ 



number of men in the after shell-room lin- 
gered there too long in their eagerness to 
pass up shell and were drowned. 

By this time the water had reached the 
berth or main gun-deck, and it was felt 
hopeless and useless to continue the fight 
longer. The word was given for each man 
to save himself ; but after this order, gun 
No. Seven was fired, when the adjoining 
gun. No. Six, was actually under water. 
This last shot was fired by an active little 
fellow named Matthew Tenney, whose 
courage had been conspicuous throughout 
the action. As his port was left open by 
the recoil of the gun, he jumped to scram- 
ble out, but the water rushed in with so 
much force that he was washed back and 



fought with a courage that could not be 
excelled ; there was no flinching, no thought 
of surrender. The whole number lost, of 
the Cumberland's crew, was one hundred 
and twenty. Many of the scenes on board 
were deeply affecting. Two of the gunners 
at the bow-guns, when the ship was sink- 
ing, clasped their guns in their arms, and 
would not be removed, and went down 
embracing them. One gunner had both 
his legs shot away; but he made three 
steps on his bloody thighs, seized the lan- 
yard and fired his gun, falling back dead. 
Wood, who lost both arms and legs, on 
being offered assistance, cried out, '■'■Buck 
to yo7ir gun.f,boys> Gwe'emfits! Hur- 
r i/i for the flag I " He lived tiU she sank. 



COMBAT BETWEEN MEERIMAC AND MONITOR. 5:^9 



Having thoroughly demolished the Cum- 
berlaud, the Merrimac now proceeded to 
deal with the Congress, the officers of 
which, having seen the fate of the Cum- 
berland, and aware that the Congress must 
also be sunk if she remained within reach 
of the iron monster's beak, had got all sail 
on the ship, with the intention of running 
her ashore. The tug-boat Zouave also 
came out and made fast to the Cumberland, 
and assisted in towing her ashore. 

The Merrimac then surged up, gave the 
Congress a broadside, receiving one in 
return, and getting astern, raked the Con- 
gress fore and aft. This fire was terribly 
destructive, a shell killing every man at 
one of the guns except one. Coming again 
broadside to the Congress, the Merrimac 
ranged slowly backward and forward, at 
less than one hundred yards distant, and 
fired broadside after broadside into the 
Congress. The latter vessel replied man- 
fully and obstinately, every gun that could 
be brought to bear being discharged rap- 
idly, but with little effect upon the iron 
monster. Some of the balls caused splint- 
ers of iron to fly from her mailed roof, but 
still she seemed well nigh invulnerable. 
The Merrimac's guns appeared to be spe- 
cially trained on the after-magazine of the 
Congress, and shot after shot entered that 
part of the ship. 

Thus slowly drifting down with the 
current and again steaming up, the Merri- 
mac continued for an hour to fire into her 
opponent. Several times the Congress was 
on fire, but the flames were kept down. 
Finally, the ship was on fire in so many 
places, and the flames gathering such force, 
that it was hopeless and suicidal to keep 
up the defense any longer. The federal 
flag was sorrowfully hauled down and a 
white flag hoisted at the peak. After it 
was hoisted, the Merrimac continued to 
fire, perhaps not discovering the white flag, 
but soon after ceased firing. 

A small confederate tug that had fol- 
lowed the Merrimac out of Norfolk then 
came alongside the Congress, and a young 
officer gained the gun-deck through a port- 
hois, announced that he came on board to 



take command, and ordered the officers on 
board the tug. The officers of the Con- 
gress refused to go, hoping from the near- 
ness to the shore that they would be able 
to reach it, and unwilling to become pris- 
oners whilst the least chance of escape 
remained. Some of the men, thinking the 
tug was a federal vessel, rushed on board. 
At this moment, the members of an Indi- 
ana regiment, at Newport News, brought 
a Parrott gun down to the beach and 
opened fire upon the tug. The latter 
hastily put off, and the Merrimac again 
opened fire upon the Congress. The fire 
not being returned from the ship, the Mer- 
rimac commenced shelling the woods and 
camps at Newport News. 

By the time all were ashore, it was 
seven o'clock in the evening, and the Con- 
gress was in a bright sheet of flame fore and 
aft. She continued to burn until twelve 
o'clock at night, her guns, which were 
loaded and trained, going off as they became 
heated. Finally, the fire reached her mag- 
azines, and with a tremendous concussion 
her charred remains blew up. There were 
some five tons of gunpowder in her mag- 
azines, and about twenty thousand dollars 
in the safe of paymaster Buchanan, the 
latter officer being an own brother to the 
commander of the Merrimac. The loss of 
life on board the Congress was lamentable. 
After sinking the Cumberland and firing 
the Congress, the Merrimac (with her 
companions the Yorktown and James- 
town,) stood off in the direction of the 
Minnesota, which, in trying to reach the 
scene of action, had run aground, and 
could not be moved. An exchange of shot 
and shell, however, took place between the 
vessels, after which, nightfall setting in, 
the Merrimac steamed in under Sewall's 
Point, expecting the next day to capture 
the Minnesota as a prize, instead of destroy- 
ing her. The day thus closed dismally for 
the federal side, and with the most gloomy 
apprehensions of what would occur the 
next day. The Minnesota was at the 
mercy of the Merrimac, and there appeared 
no reason whj' the iron monster might not 
clear the Boads of the whole fleet, and 



530 



COMBAT BETWEEN MERRIMAC AND MONITOR. 



destroy all the stores and warehouses on 
the beach. Saturday, therefore, was a 
night of terror at Fortress Monroe. 

But just here, the chief event of interest 
centers. It was at night, the moon shin- 
ing brightly, when, totally unexpected, 
there came into those blood-dyed waters, 
the little gun-boat Monitor, from New York, 
— a vessel which had just been completed, 
from designs of Mr. Ericsson, and differ- 
ing materially from any vessel ever before 
constructed, and believed by its inventor 
to be absolutely invulnerable. Externally, 
it had the appearance of a long, oval raft, 
rising only eighteen inches above the 
water, with a low, round tower upon its 
center. This raft was the upper part of 
the hull of the vessel, and was plated with 
iron so as to be ball-proof; it projected on 
every side be30nd the lower hull, which 
contained the machinery. The tower, con- 
taining two heavy guns, the only arma- 
ment of the battery, was of iron, and nearly 
a foot in thickness, and so constructed as 
to revolve, bringing the guns to bear upon 
any point. This tower, nine feet high and 
twenty in diameter, and a pilot-house, ris- 
ing three feet, were all that appeared upon 
the smooth, level deck. She was com- 
manded by Lieutenant Worden, U. S. N., 
and, though a mere pigmy, in size and 
armament, compared with the Merrimac, 
was soon to measure her prowess with the 
latter, in a contest such as had never 
entered into the imagination even of Mr. 
Ericsson himself. 

The succeeding day, Sunday, dawned 
fair. As the sun broke on the horizon, a 
slight haze was visible on the water, which 
prevented an extended vision. At half 
past six, A. M., this haze cleared away. 
Looking toward Sewall's Point, there 
appeared the Merrimac, and her attend- 
ants, the steamers Yorktown and Patrick 
Henry. They were stationary, — the Mer- 
rimac to the right of the others, blowing 
off steam. They seemed deliberating what 
to do — whether to move on to attempt the 
destruction of the Minnesota, which was 
yet aground, or move on to the federal 
fleet anchored near the Rip Raps. At 



seven o'clock, a plan seemed to nave been 
adopted, and the Merrimac steamed in the 
direction of the Minnesota, which was still 
aground. The Yorktown and Jamestown 
were crowded with troops, and steamed 
slowly after the Merrimac. The latter 
steamed along with boldness until she was 
within three miles of the Minnesota, when 
the Monitor essayed from behind the lat- 
ter, and proceeded toward the Merrimac. 
It should here be mentioned, that when 
Lieutenant Worden first arrived in the 
Roads and was informed of what had 
occurred, though his crew were suffering 
from exposure and loss of rest from a 
stormy voyage around from New York, he 
at once made preparations for taking part 
in whatever might take place the next day. 
To this end, the Monitor moved up, before 
daj-light on Sunday morning, and took a 
position alongside the Minnesota, lying 
between the latter ship and the fortress, 
where she could not be seen by the enemy, 
but was ready, with steam up, to slip out. 

At the sudden appearance of so strange- 
looking and diminutive a craft as the Mon- 
itor, the confederate monster seemed non- 
plussed, and hesitated, no doubt in wonder- 
ment that such an unaccountable and 
apparently insignificant an object should 
be making so bold an approach. 

The Merrimac now closed the distance 
between her and the Monitor, until they 
were within a mile of each other. Both 
batteries stopped. The Merrimac fired a 
shot at the Minnesota, to which no reply 
was made. She then fired at the Monitor ; 
the latter replied, hitting the Merrimac 
near the water-line. The Merrimac then 
commenced firing very rapidly, first from 
her stern gun at the Monitor, and then 
her broadside guns, occasionally firing a 
shot at the Minnesota. The fight went on 
in this way for an hour or two, both ves- 
sels exchanging shots pretty freely. Some- 
times the Merrimac would retire, followed 
by the Monitor, and sometimes the reverse. 

While the fight between the batteries 
was going on, one hundred solid nine-inch 
shot were sent up from Fortress Monroe 
on the steamer Rancocas to the Minnesota. 



COMBAT BETWEEN MERRIMAC AND MONITOR. 



531 




At a quarter-past ten o'clock, the Merri- 
mac and Monitor had come into pretty 
close quarters, the former giving the latter 
two broadsides in succession. It was 
replied to promptly by the Monitor. The 
firing was so rapid that both craft were 
obscured in colum: is of white smoke for a 
moment or more. The ramparts of the 
fort, the rigging of the vessels in port, the 
houses, and the bend, were all crowded 
with sailors, soldiers and civilians. When 
the rapid firing alluded to took place, these 
spectators were singularly silent, as if 
doubtful as to the result. Their impatience 
was soon removed by the full figure of the 
Monitor, with the stars and stripes flying 
at her stern, steaming around the Merri- 
J5 mac, moving with the ease of a duck on 
t the water. The distance between the ves- 
= sels was forty feet. In this circuit, the 
~ Monitor's guns were not idle, as she fired 
^] shot after shot into her antagonist, two of 
2 which penetrated the monster's sides. 
S At eleven, a. m., the Minnesota opened 
'■ fire, and assisted the Monitor in engaging 
= the Merrimac. She fired nine-inch solid 
g shot with good accuracy, but with appar- 
£ ently little effect. The Merrimac returned 
S the fire, firing shell, one of which struck 
5 and exploded the boiler of the gun-boat 
" Dragon, which was alongside the Minne- 
j sota, endeavoring to get her off. Pot the 
> next hour, the battle raged fiercely between 
'^ the Merrimac on the one side, and her 
antagonists, the Monitor, Minnesota, and 
Whitehall, but with no important result. 
The Minnesota being the best mark for 
the Merrimac, the latter fired at her fre- 
quently, alternately giving the Monitor a 
shot. The Merrimac made several attempts, 
also, to run at full speed past the Monitor, 
to attack and run down the Minnesota. 
All these attempts were parried, as it were, 
by the Monitor. In one of these attempts 
by the Merrimac, she ran her prow or ram 
with full force against the side of the 
Monitor; but it only had the effect of 
careening the latter vessel in the slightest 
degree. The Yorktown and Patrick Henry 
kept at a safe distance from the Monitor. 
The former vessel, at the beginning of the 



532 



COMBAT BETWEEN MERRIMAC AND MONITOR. 



fight, had the temerity to come within 
respectable range of the Monitor. The 
latter fired one shot at her, which carried 
away her pilot-house, and caused her to lose 
no time in retiring. 

As the Monitor carried but two guns, 
whilst the Merrimac had eight, of course 
she received two or three shots for every 
one she gave. The fight raged hotly on 
both sides, the opposing batteries moving 
around each other with great skill, ease, 
and dexterity. The Merrimac, though the 
strongest, did not move with the alertness 
of her antagonist ; hence the Monitor had 
the advantage of taking choice of position. 
At a quarter before twelve o'clock, noon, 
Lieutenant Hepburn, the signal officer on 
the ramparts at Fortress Monroe, reported 
to General Wool that the Monitor had 
pierced the sides of the Merrimac, and in 
a few minutes the latter was in full retreat. 
Whether true, or not, that the Merrimac's 
armor had actually been penetrated, her 
iron prow had become so wrenched in 
striking the sides of her antagonist, that 
the timbers within were started, and the 
vessel leaked badly. The little Monitor 
followed the retreating Merrimac until she 
got well inside Sewall's Point, and then 
returned to the Minnesota. It is probable 
that the pursuit would have been con- 
tinued still farther, but Lieutenant Worden 
had previously had his eyes injured, and it 
was felt that, as so much depended on the 
Monitor, it was imprudent to expose her 
unnecessarily. At the time he was injured, 
Lieutenant Worden was looking out of the 
eye-holes of the pilot-house, which were 
simply horizontal slips, half an inch wide. 
A round shot struck against these slits as 
Lieutenant Worden was looking through, 
causing some scalings from the iron and 
fragments of cement to fly with great force 
against his eyes, utterly blinding him for 
some days, and permanently destroying 
the power of his left eye. Stunned by 
the concussion, he was carried away 
helpless. 

On recovering sufficiently to speak, he 
asked — 

" Hxve I saved the Minnesota ? " 



" Yes, and whipped the Merrimac" was 
the answer. 

" Then Idon^t care what becomes of me " 
said Lieutenant Worden. 

No other real damage was received by 
the Monitor, during the action ; the deep- 
est indentation received by her was on 
the side, amounting to four and one-half 
inches ; on the turret, the deepest was one 
and one-half inches ; and on the deck, one- 
half inch. The Merrimac, in addition to 
the injury already mentioned, had her 
anchor and flag-staff shot away, her smoke- 
stack and steam-pipe riddled, two of her 
crew killed and eight wounded, including 
her commander, Buchanan. The latter 
officer went out on his deck, was seen by 
the federal sharp-shooters at Camp Butler, 
and was shot with a minie rifle ball in his 
left leg, which maimed him for life. His 
exploits gained him great favor at the 
south, and he was subsequently made 
Admiral of the Confederate States navy. 
The praises of Lieutenant Worden filled 
every loyal mouth, and he was successfully 
promoted to the highest rank in the ser- 
vice. 

Withdrawing to liorfolk, the Jlerrimac 
underwent extensive repairs for some 
weeks, and was provided with ordnance of 
great power. She then took her station 
at the mouth of the Elizabeth river, guard- 
ing it, and threatening the United States 
vessels in the Roads, but, on account of 
some defects in her working, not ventur- 
ing an attack. Finally, Norfolk having 
surrendered to the Union forces, May 10th, 
and the Merrimac being found to draw too 
much water to admit of her being removed 
up the river, she was on the 12th aban- 
doned and set on fire, and soon after b'ew 
up. 

The loss of two such fine war vessels as 
the Cumberland and Congress, with some 
four hundred brave men, cast a gloom over 
the nation, the weight of which was only 
relieved by the heroism displayed in their 
defense. Indeed, one of the greatest in- 
stances of patriotic devotion ever recorded 
in our own or any other nation's naval his- 
tory, is that which narrates the closing 



COMBAT BETWEEN MERRIMAC AND MONITOR. 



533 



scene on board the Cumberland. Neither 
the shots of the Congress, nor of the Cum- 
berland, had any more effect, for the most 
part, upon the iron-mailed Merrimac, than 
if they had been so many peas. But if 
they could have kept ihe Merrimac off, she 
never could have sunk the Cumberland. 
They had then nothing to do but stand and 
fight and die like men. Buchanan asked 
their commander, Lieutenant Morris — 
" Will you surrender the ship ? " 
" Never," said Morris, " never will we 
surrender the ship." 

Buchanan then backed his huge lam off 
again, and the Cumberland fired as rapidly 
as she could, but the Merrimac came once 
more and ran her steel beak in ; and now 
it was that Buchanan asked Lieutenant 
Morris, calling him by name — 





■ Mr. Morris, will you surrender that 
ship?" 

" Never," said Morris, " sinJc her ! " 

The remaining act in this startling 
drama is well known. The guns of the 
Cumberland were coolly manned, loaded 
and discharged, while the vessel was in a 
sinking condition, and the good ship went 
down with her flag flj'ing defiantly at the 
gaff. 

Similar was the bravery exhibited on 
board the ill-fated Congress. The father 
of +-he gallant commander of that ship 
(Liei'*'enant Joseph Smith), who lost his 
life in that terrible encounterj was Com- 



modore Joseph Smith, of Washington. It 
appears that the elder Smith had exerted 
himself specially to finish the work on the 
Monitor, and hasten her departure. The 
son, too, had written repeatedly to the 
naval authorities at Washington, express- 
ing his fears for the consequences of an 
attack from the Merrimac, and urging 
plans for guarding against it. The father 
knew the spirit of his son, and that the 
only issue of a battle for him was death or 
victory. When he saw, therefore, by the 
first dispatch from Fortress Monroe, that 
the Congress had raised the white flag, he 
only remarked quietly, " Joe is dead ! " 
No Roman father ever paid a nobler or 
more emphatic tribute of confidence to a 
gallant son than is contained in the words 
60 uttered, nor ever gave that son to his 
country with more cheerful and 
entire devotion. The sad assur- 
ance was well founded. The flag 
was not struck until his son had 
fallen. 

Not less conspicuous was the 
conduct of Charles Johnston, boats- 
wain of the Congress — a fine speci- 
men of the thorough seaman, who 
had been in the navy some thirty 
odd years — who greatly excited the 
admiration of the officers by his 
cool, unflinching courage. Sta- 
tioned in the very midst of the 
carnage committed by the raking 
fire of the Merrimac, he never lost 
his self-possession, and not for a 
moment failed to cheer on and encourage 
the men. Blinded with the smoke and 
dust, and splashed with the blood and 
brains of his shipmates, his cheering words 
of encouragement were still heard. After 
the engagement, from which he escaped 
unwounded, his kindness and care in pro- 
viding for the removal of the wounded, 
were untiring. The fact has already been 
mentioned that the paymaster of the Con- 
gress was an own brother of the com- 
mander of the Merrimac. His position 
was one of extreme agony, but his loyal 
heart did not fail him. " Just before the 
sanguinary engagement," said paymaster 



534 



COMBAT BETWEEN MEERIMAC AND MONITOR. 



Buchanan, " I volunteered my serv- 
ices to Lieut. Commanding Joseph B. 
Smith for duty on either of the upper 
decks, although the rebel steamer Mer- 
rimac was commanded by my own 
brother, when I received an order to take 
charge of the berth-deck division, which 
order I promptly obeyed, and, thank 



God, I did some service to my beloved 
country." 

The character of this contest may truly 
be said to have astonished the world, and 
its effect has been to revolutionize the 
principles and mode of naval warfare, ren- 
dering wooden vessels of war practically 
useless for active service. 



LXV. 
BATTLE OF ANTIETAM, MD.— 1862. 



Bloodiest Day That America Ever Saw.— Nearly One Hundred Thousand Men on Each Side.— General 
McClellan Declares on the Field that it is " the Battle of the War."— Four Miles and Fourteen Hours 
of Fighting and Slaughter —The Shock and " Glory "of War on a Colossal Scale— Obstinate Brav- 
ery of the Contending Foes.— Some of the Regiments Almost Annihilated —The Union Troops 
Hold the Disputed Ground.— Lee's Great Military Object —His Troops Enter Maryland.— Frowning 
Masses of Soldiery.— Surrender of Harper's Ferry.— McClellan's Army in Motion— He Attacks the 
Enemy in Position.— Hooker Leads the Advance.— He is Shot and Disabled.— Death of General 
Mansfield.— Other Union Generals Wounded —Reno's Untimely End.— Rain of Shot and Shell.— 
Various Fortunes of the Day —Close and Stern Ordeal— Feat of Burnside's Corps —Their Struggle 
for the Hill.— A Fearful Crisis with General Burnside — He Asks for Re-enforcemente.- McClellan's 
Memorable Reply.— Driving the Enemy en masse.— Forty of their Colors Taken.— The After-Scene 
of Horror. 



" Our forcea slept that night conquerfira on 
lAL McClellan s official Repobt. 



a field won by their valor, and covered with the dead and wounded of the nemy."— Gbh- 




, EAVY and melancholy as was the loss of '4ife 
attending the bloody battle of Antietam, on the 
17th of September, 1862, between the Union 
and confederate armies — numbering about one 
hundred thousand brave soldiers each — and com- 
manded, respectively, by General McClellan and 
General Lee, a burden of anxiety was rolled off 
the loyal hearts of the North, when, on the 
evening of that day, there came from General 
Hooker the following thrilling dispatch, dated 
at Centreville, Md. : 

" A great battle has been fought, and we are 
victorious. I had the honor to open it yesterday 
afternoon, and it continued until ten o'clock this 
morning, when I was wounded, and compelled 
to quit the field. The battle was fought with 
great violence on both sides. The carnage has 
been awful. I only regret that I was not per- 
mitted to take part in the operations until they 
were concluded, for I had counted on either cap- 
turing their army or driving them into the Potomac. My wound ha., been painful, but 
it is not one that will be likely to lay me up. I was shot through the foot. 

One great object of General Lee, during the summer of this ye.-ir. was to possess 



BOKTIHQ THE DEAD AT ANTIETAM. 



536 



BATTLE OF ANTIETAM, MD. 



himself of Harper's Ferry, as the base of 
future and more important operations. To 
this end, the confederate forces under Gen- 
erals Jackson, Longstreet, and Hill, en- 
tered Frederick, Md., in the early part of 
Septehiber, and occupied all the adjoining 
country, their right resting on the Mono- 
cacy river. The federal army, which with 
the exception of about fourteen thousand 
men at Harper's Ferry, had been concen- 
trated near Washington, and had been 
placed under the immediate command of 
General McClellan, advanced to meet the 
enemy. Passing up the Potomac, thej' 
interposed in force between the confeder- 
ates and the fords by which they had 
crossed, threatening to cut off their re- 
treat in case they should be defeated. 
Perceiving this, the confederates aban- 
doned Frederick, and went northward to 
Hagerstown, which was occupied Septem- 
ber 11th. A strong body was then sent to 
attack Harper's Ferry. The assault was 
opened on the 12th and continued on the 
following day, when the federal troops 
were driven from the heights on the Mary- 
land side. On Monday morning the place 
was fairly surrounded, and fire was opened 
from seven or eight different points. On 
the morning of the 15th, Colonel Miles, 
commander at Harper's Ferry, ordered the 
white flag to be raised, to General Jackson ; 
a few moments after, he was struck by a 
shot which mortally wounded him. The 
cavalry, numbering some two thousand, 
who had been at the Ferry, cut their way 
through the enemy's lines and escaped ; 
the remainder of the troops, to the number 
of about eleven thousand, surrendered, and 
were immediately paroled. The posses- 
sion of the place was of considerable ad- 
vantage to the confederates, though they 
retained it but for one day ; the bridge 
over the Potomac not being destroyed 
enabled them to cross the river, and take 
part in the battle of Antietam, which fol- 
lowed on the 17th. 

A close pursuit was kept up b}* the fed- 
eral armj', and, early on the morning of 
the 14th, the advance — the right and 
center under Hooker and Reno, the left 



under Franklin — came up with the enemy, 
who were strongly posted on the crest of 
the South Mountain, commanding the road 
to Hagerstown. The attack on both wings, 
which lasted from noon until nightfall, re- 
sulted in forcing the confederates from all 
their positions, so that they retreated during 
the night in the direction of Williamsport. 
In this action. General Reno was killed. 
Having hastily abandoned Harper's Ferry, 
the confederates re-crossed the Potomac, 
and joined the main body under Lee. 

In the meantime, McClellan had defi- 
nitely made his arrr.ngements for giving 
battle to the opposing hosts. In accord- 
ance with this plan, as detailed by McClel- 
lan, in his official report. Hooker's corps, 
consisting of Rickett's and Doubleday's 
divisions, and the Pennsylvania reserves, 
under Meade, was sent across the Antie- 
tam creek, by a ford and bridge to the 
right of Kedysville, with orders to attack, 
and, if possible, turn the enemy's left. 
Mansfield, with his corps, was sent in the 
evening to support Hooker. Arrived in 
position, Meade's division of the Pennsyl- 
vania reserves, which was at the head of 
Hooker's corps, became engaged in a sharp 
contest with the enem}', which lasted until 
after dark, when it had succeeded in driv- 
ing in a portion of the opposing line, and 
held the ground. At daylight the contest 
was renewed between Hooker and the 
enemy in his front. Hooker's attack was 
successful for a time, but masses of the 
enemy, thrown upon his corps, checked it. 
Mansfield brought up his corps to Hook- 
er's support, when the two corps drove the 
enemy back, the gallant and distinguished 
veteran Mansfield losing his life in the 
effort. General Hooker was, unhappily, 
about this time wounded, and compelled to 
leave the field, where his services had 
been conspicuous and important. About 
an hour after this time, Sumner's corps, 
consisting of Sedgwick's, Richardson's, and 
French's divisions, arrived on the field — 
Richardson's some time after the other 
two, as he was unable to start as soon as 
they. Sedgwick, on the right, i)enetrated 
the woods in front of Hooker's and Mans- 



BATTLE OF ANTIETAM, MD. 



537 



field's troops. French and Eichardson 
were placed to the left of Sedgwick, thus 
attacking the enemy toward their left 
center. Crawford's and Sedgwick's lines, 
however, j-ielded to a destructive fire of 
masses of the enefny in the woods, and. 
Buffering greatly, (Generals Sedgwick and 
Crawford being among the wounded,) their 
troops fell back in disorder ; they, never- 
theless, rallied in the woods. The enemy's 
advance was, however, entirely checked 
by the destructive fire of our artillery. 
Franklin, who had been directed the day 
before to join the main army with two 
divisions, arrived on the field from Browns- 
ville about an hour after, and Smith's 
division replaced Crawford's and Sedg- 
wick's lines. Advancing steadily, it swe^t 




over the ground just lost, but now perma- 
nently retaken. The divisions of French 
and Richardson maintained with consider- 
able loss the exposed positions which 
they had so gallantly gained, among the 
wounded being General Eichardson. 

The condition of things (says General 
McClellan,) on the right, toward the mid- 
dle of the afternoon, notwithstanding the 
success wrested from the enemy by the 
stubborn bravery of the troops, was at this 
time unpromising. Sumner's, Hooker's, 
and Mansfield's corps had lost heavilj', 
several general officers having been carried 



from the field. I was at one time com- 
pelled to draw two brigades from Porter's 
corps (the reserve) to strengthen the right. 
This left for the reserve the small division 
of regulars who had been engaged in sup- 
porting during the day the batteries in the 
center, and a single brigade of Morell's 
division. The effect of Burnside's move- 
ment on the enemy's right was to prevent 
the further massing of their troops on 
their left, and we held what we had gained. 
Burnside's corps, consisting of Wilcox's, 
Sturgis's, and Rodman's divisions, and 
Cox's Kanawha division, was intrusted 
with the difficult task of carrying the 
bridge across the Antietam, near Eohr- 
back's farm, and assaulting the enemy's 
right, the order having been communicated 
to him at ten A. M. The valley of the 
Antietam, at and near the bridge, is nar- 
row, with high banks. On the right of 
the stream the bank is wooded, and com- 
mands the approaches both to the bridge 
and the ford. The steep slopes of the 
bank were lined with rifle-pits and breast- 
works of rails and stones. These, together 
with the woods, were filled with the enemy's 
infantr}', while their batteries completely 
commanded and enfiladed the bridge and 
ford and their approaches. The advance of 
the troops brought on an obstinate and san- 
guinary contest, and from the great natu- 
ral advantages of the position, it was 
nearly one o'clock before the heights ou 
the right bank were carried. At about 
three o'clock, P. M., the corps again ad- 
vanced, and with success, driving the 
enemy before it, and pushing nearly to 
Sharpsburg, while the left, after a hard 
encounter, also compelled the enemy to re- 
tire before it. The enemy here, however, 
were speedily re-enforced, and with over- 
whelming masses. New batteries of their 
artillery, also, were brought up and opened. 
It became evident that our force was not 
sufficient to enable the advance to reach 
the town, and the order was given to retire 
to the cover of the hill, which was taken 
from the enemj' earlier in the afternoon. 

Of these brilliant movements, thus so 
briefly referred to by General McClellan, 



538 



BATTLE OF AJSTTIETAM, MD. 



a most graphic and admirable account was 
furnished by Mr. Smalley, a brilliant 
writer and an eye-witness, for the New 
York Tribune, a portion of which is here 
transcribed. 

After describing the gloomy condition 
of the federal troops on the right at one 
o'clock, Mr. Smalley says • All that had 
been gained in front had been lost ! The 
enemy's batteries, which, if advanced and 
served vigorously, might have made sad 
work with the closely-massed troops, were 
fortunately either partially disabled or 
short of ammunition. Sumner was confi- 
dent that he could hold his own, but an- 





^/(4M4u^ 



other advance was out of the question. 
The enemy, on the other hand, seemed to 
be too much exhausted to attack. At this 
crisis Franklin came up with fresh troops 
and formed on the left. Slocum, com- 
manding one division of the corps, was 
sent forward along the slopes lying under 
the first ranges of rebul hills, while Smith, 
commanding the other division, was or- 
dered to retake the cornfields and woods 
which all day had been so hotly contested. 
It was done in the handsomest style. His 
Maine and Vermont regiments and the 
rest went forward on the run, and, cheer- 
ing as they wont, swept like an avalanche 
through the cornfields, fell upon the woods, 
cleared them in ten minutes, and held 
them. They were not again retaken. 



The field and its ghastly harvest which 
the reaper had gathered in these fatal 
hours finally remained with ua. Four 
times it had been lost and won. 

The splendid feat of Burnside holding 
the hill was one of the memorable deeds on 
that day of earnest action. At four o'clock 
(says Mr. Smalley,) McClellan sent simul- 
taneous orders to Burnside and Franklin ; 
to the former to advance and carry the 
batteries in his front at all hazards and at 
any cost ; to the latter, to carry the woods 
next in front of him to the right, which 
the rebels still held. The order to Frank- 
lin, however, was practically counter- 
manded, in consequence of a message from 
General Sumner, that if Franklin went on 
and was repulsed, his own corps was not 
yet sufficiently reorganized to be depended 
on as a reserve. Burnside obeyed the 
order most gallantly. Getting his troops 
well in hand, and sending a portion of his 
artillery to the front, he advanced them 
with rapidity and the most determined 
vigor, straight up the hill in front, on top 
of which the confederates had maintained 
their most dangerous battery. The move- 
ment was in plain view of McClellan's 
position, and as Franklin on the other side 
sent his batteries into the field about the 
same time, the battle seemed to open in 
all directions with greater activity than 
ever. The fight in the ravine was in full 
progress, the batteries which Porter sup- 
ported were firing with new vigor, Frank- 
lin was blazing away on the right, and 
every hill-top, ridge, and piece of woods 
along the whole line was crested and veiled 
with white clouds of smoke. All day had 
been clear and bright since the early 
cloudy morning, and now this whole mag- 
nificent, unequaled scene, shone with the 
splendor of an afternoon September sun. 
Four miles of battle, its glory all visible, 
its horrors all veiled, the fate of the re- 
puhlic hanging on the hour — could any 
one be insensible to its grandeur? There 
are two hills on the left of the road, the 
furthest the lowest. The rebels have bat- 
teries on both. Burnside is ordered to carry 
the nearest to him, which is the furthest 



BATTLE OF ANTIETAM, MD. 



539 




from the road. His guns opening first 
from tliis new position in front, soon 
entirely controlled and silenced the ene- 
my's artillery. The infantry came on at 
once, moving rapidly and steadily up, 
long dark lines, and broad dark masses, 
being plainly visible without a glass as 
they moved over the green lull-side. 
Underneath was a tumult of wagons, 
guns, horses, and men flying at speed 
down the road. Blue flashes of smoke 
burst now and then among them, a 
horse or a man or a half-dozen went 
down, and then the whirlwind swept on. 
The hill was carried, but mild it be 
held? The rebel columns, before seen 
moving to the left, increased their pace. 
The guns, on the hill above, sent an 
angrj' tempest of shell down among 
Burnside's guns and men. He had 
formed his columns apparently in the 
near angles of two fields bordering the 
road — high ground about them every- 
where except in rear. In another mo- 
ment a rebel battle-line appears on the 
brow of the ridge above them, moves 
swiftly down in the most perfect order, 
I; and though met by incessant discharges 
B of musketry, of which we plainly see 
the flashes, does not fire a gun. White 
spaces show where men are falling, but 
they close up instantly, and still the 
line advances. The brigades of Burn- 
side are in heavy column ; the}' will not 
give way before a bayonet charge in line. 
The rebels think twice before they dash 
into these hostile masses. Tliere is a 
halt ; the rebel left gives way and scat- 
ters over the field; the rest stand fast 
and fire. More infantry comes up ; 
Burnside is outnumbered, flanked, com- 
pelled to yield the hill he took so bravely. 
His position is no longer one of attack; 
he defends himself with unfaltering 
firmness, but he sends to McClellan for 
help. McClellan's glass for the last half 
hour has seldom been turned away from 
the left. He sees clearly enough that 
Burnside is pressed — needs no messen- 
ger to tell him that. His face grows 
darker with anxious thought. Look- 



540 



BATTLE OF ANTIETAM, MD. 



ing down into the valley, where fifteen 
thousand troops are lying, he turns a half- 
questioning look on Fitz John Porter, 
who stands hy his side, gravely scan- 
ning the field. They are Porter's troops 
below, are fresh, and only impatient to 
share in this fight. But Porter slowly 
shakes his head, and one may believe that 
the same thought is passing through the 
minds of both generals — 

" They are the only reserves of the 
army ; they cannot he spared." 

McClellan remounts his horse, and with 
Porter and a dozen officers of his staff rides 
away to the left in Burnside's direction. 
Sykes meets them on the road — a good 
soldier, whose opinion is worth taking. 
The three generals talk briefly together. 
It is easy to see that the moment has come 
when everything may turn on one order 




OENEKAL "STONEWALL" JACKSON. 

given or withheld, when the history of the 
battle is only to be written in thoughts 
and purposes and words of the General. 
Burnside's messenger rides up. His mes- 
sage is — 

" I want troops and guns. If you do 
not spare them, I cannot hold my position 
for half an hour." 

McClellan's only answer for the moment 
is a glance at the western sky. Then he 
turns and says very slowly — 

"Tell General Burnside that this is the 
battle of the tvar. He must hold his 
ground till dark at any cost. I will send 
him Miller's battery. I can do nothing 
more. I have no infantry." 

Then, as the messenger was riding 
away, he called liim back : 



" Tell him if he can not hold his ground, 
then the bridge to the last man ! — always 
the bridge ! If the bridge is lost, all is 
lost." 

The sun was already down ; not h.alf an 
hour of daylight was left. Till Burnside's 
message came, it had seemed plain to every 
one that the battle could not be finished 
to-day. None suspected how near was the 
peril of defeat, of sudden attack on ex- 
hausted forces — how vital to the safety of 
the army and the nation were those fifteen 
thousand waiting troops of Fitz John Por- 
ter in the hollow. But the rebels haltet? 
instead of pushing on ; their vindictive can 
nonade died awaj' as the light faded. Be 
fore it was quite dark, the battle was over. 

With the day, (says the oflicial report o'» 
the commanding general,) closed this 
memorable battle, in which, perhaps, 
nearly two hundred thousand men were 
for fourteen hours engaged in combat. 
We had attacked the enemy in position, 
driven them from their line on one flank, 
and secured a footing within it on the 
other. Under the depression of previous 
reverses, we had achieved a victory over an 
adversary invested with the prestige of 
former successes and inflated with a recent 
triumph. Our forces slept that night con- 
querors on a field won by their valor, and 
covered with the dead and wounded of the 
enemy. 

This has been called the bloodiest day 
that America ever saw, and the fighting 
was followed by the most appalling sights 
upon the battle-field. Never, perhaps, was 
the ground strewn with the bodies of the 
dead and the dying in greater numbers or 
in more shocking attitudes. The faces of 
those who had fallen in the battle were, 
after more than a day's exposure, so black 
that no one would ever have suspected 
that they were once white. All looked 
like negroes, and as thej'lay in piles whore 
they had fallen, one upon another, they 
filled the bystanders with a sense of horror. 
In the road, they lay scattered all around, 
and the stench which arose from the 
bodies decomposing in the sun was almost 
unendurable. Passing along the turnpike 



BATTLE OF ANTIETAM, MD. 



541 



from Sharpsburg to Hagerstown, that 
night, it, required the greatest care to keep 
one's horse from trampling upon the dead, 
so thickly were tiiey strewn around. Along 
the line for not more than a single mile, at 
least one thousand live hundred there lay 
unburied. 

Such a spectacle was in keeping, of 
course, with the terrible carnage incident 
to such a prolonged and constant contest 
between two such vast armies. The loss 
of the union forces in this battle was, 
according to General McClellan, two thou- 
sand and ten killed, nine thousand four 
hundred and sixteen wounded, and one 
thousand and forty-three missing; and 
their total loss in the battles of the 14tli 
and 17th amounted to fourteen thousand 
seven hundred and ninet3'-four. Of the 
confederates killed, about three thousand 
were buried by the unionists, and their 




total loss in the two battles was estimated 
by General McClellan at four thousand 
killed, eighteen thousand seven hundred 
and forty-two wounded, and five thousand 
prisoners, besides stragglers sufficient to 
make the number amount to some thirty 
thousand. From the time the union 
troops first encountered the confederates in 
Maryland until the latter were driven back 
into Virginia, (says McClellan,) we cap- 
tured thirteen guns, seven caissons, nine 
limbers, two field forges, two caisson bod- 
ies, thirty-nine colors, and one signal flag; 
the union army lost neither gun nor color. 



The confederates also lost three of their 
bravest generals, Starke, Branch, and 
Anderson. 

General Reno's death was a severe blow 
to the union army. He had been most 
active all daj-, fearing no danger, and 
appearing to be everywhere at the same 
time. Safe ujj to seven o'clock, no one 
dreamed of such a disaster as was to hap- 
pen. He, with his staff, was standing a 
little back of the wood, on a field, the con- 
federate forces being directly in front. A 
body of his troops were just before him, 
and at this point the fire of the confeder- 
ates was directed. A minie-ball struck 
him and went through his body. He fell, 
and, from the first, appeared to have a 
knowledge that he could not survive the 
wound he had received. He was instantly 
carried, with the greatest care, to the rear, 
followed b^' a number of the officers, and 
attended by the division surgeon. Doctor 
Cutter. At the foot of the hill he was laid 
under a tree ; he died without the least 
movement, a few minutes after. The 
grief of the oflicers at this calamity was 
heart-rending. The old soldier, just come 
from the scene of carnage, with death star- 
ing him in the face on every side, here 
knelt and wept like a child ; indeed, no 
eye was dry among those present. Thus 
died one of the bravest generals that was 
in the service of his country, and the intel- 
ligence of his death was received by all 
with the greatest sorrow, as it was well 
known that but few could take the place 
of so able and brave an officer. The com- 
mand of the corps devolved upon General 
Cox, who, from that time, directed the 
movements of the army. 

The fighting qualities of the southern 
soldiers, in this battle, may be judged of 
by the fact that the Fiftieth Georgia regi- 
ment lost nearly all their commissioned 
officers, and that at night, after the battle, 
only fifty-five men, of the whole regiment, 
remained fit for duty,— nor did they have 
anything to eat and drink for more than 
forty-eight hours. This regiment was 
posted in a narrow path, washed out into 
a regular gully, and was fired into by the 



542 



BATTLE OF ANTIETAM, MD. 



unionists from the front, the rear and left 
flank. The men stood their ground un- 
waveringly, returning fire until nearly 
two-thirds of their number lay dead or 
wounded in that lane. Out of two hun- 
dred and ten carried into the fight, over 
one hundred and twenty-five were killed 
and wounded in less than twenty minutes. 
The slaughter was horrible. When or- 
dered to retreat, the living could scarcely 
extricate themselves from the dead and 
wounded lying around — a man could have 
walked from the head of the line to the 
foot on their bodies. The survivors of the 
regiment retreated very orderly back to 
where General Anderson's brigade rested. 
The brigade suffered terribly. James's 
South Carolina battalion was nearly anni- 
hilated. 

There were not wanting also, inciaents 
of that class which show the qualities of 
ludicrousness and cunning in human na- 
ture, as, for instance, the following : 

The New York One Hundred and Sev- 
enth regiment supported Cotheren's bat- 
tery ; and, during the hottest part of the 
fight, the confederates massed themselves 
opposite the union front, for an assault on 
Cotheren's position. The battery was 
short of ammunition, and so reserved their 
fire, while throughout the whole field there 
came a lull in the tumult. The confeder- 
ates advanced in a solid mass, with a pre- 
cision of movement perfectly beautiful. 
It was a moment which tried the nerves of 
the bravest. In the meantime, one of the 
lads, — a noted sporting character — becom- 
ing quite interested in the affair, had 
climbed a rock where he could view the 
whole scene. He occupied the place, un- 
mindful of the bullets which were buzzing 
like bees all around. The confederates 
came on until the unionists could see their 
faces, and then Cotheren poured the canis- 
ter into them. The advancing column 
was literally torn to pieces by the fire. 
At this, the lad on the rock became almost 
frantic in his demonstrations of delight, 
and as one of the battery sections sent a 
shrapnel which mowed down in an instant 
a long row of confederates, he swung his 



cap, and, in a voice that could be heard by 
the flying enemy, shouted out, " Bull-e-e- 
e-e ! Set 'em ujd on the other alley ! " 

General Sumner had a son, a captain on 
his staff, who was but twenty-one years of 
age. During the battle, when the bullets 
were whistling around the general's ears, 
he found it necessary to send the young 
man upon a mission of duty to a certain 
portion of the field. After giving him the 
requisite instructions, the general em- 
braced him and said, " Good-by, Sammy." 
" Good-by, father," was the response, and 
the captain rode forth upon his mission. 
On his return from his perilous errand, the 
fond father grasped his hand, with the 
simple remark, "How d'ye do, Sammy?" 
Tlio spectators of this filial scene were 
much affected. 

A union soldier belonging to a New 
York regiment was wounded in the should- 
ers. After dark, missing his regiment, he 
became lost in the woods, and went in the 
direction of the enemy. Seeing a party of 
men ahead, he called out, " What regiment 
do you belong to ? " They answered, 
" The Third South Carolina. What do you 
belong to ? " " The Tenth Virginia," was 
the ready and apt reply ; saying which, he 
moved off in the opposite direction, and 
soon joined some union soldiers. His wits 
saved him. 

The report of this battle by Mr. Smal- 
ley, in the New York Tribune, was pro- 
nounced by General Hooker, in a conver- 
sation with Mr. George Wilkes (himself an 
accomplished journalist), a perfect repro- 
duction of the scene and all its incidents. 
In reply to a question by Mr. Wilkes, if 
he know who the Tribune reporter was, 
General Hooker said : " I saw him first 
upon the battle-field, when we were in the 
hottest portion of the fight, early in the 
morning. My attention was then attracted 
to a civilian, who sat upon bis horse, in 
advance of my whole staff ; aud though he 
was in the hottest of the fire, and the shot 
and shell were striking and sputtering 
around us like so much hail, he sat gazing 
on the strife as steady and undisturbed as 
if he were in a quiet theater, looking at a 



BATTLE OF AISTTIETAM, MD. 



543 



scene upon the stage. In all the experi- 
ence which I have had of war, I never saw 
the most experienced and veteran soldier 
exhibit more tranquil fortitude and un- 
shaken valor than was exhibited by that 
young man. I was concerned at the need- 
less risk which he invited, and told one of 
my aids to order him in our rear. Pres- 
ently, all my aids had left me, on one serv- 
ice and another ; whereupon, turning to 
give an order, I found no one but this 
young stranger at my side. I then asked 
him if he would oblige me by bearing a 
dispatch to General McClellan, and by 
acting as my aid, until some of my staff 
should com<:< up. He rode off with alacrity, 



through a most exposed position, returned 
with the answer, and served me as 
an aid through the remainder of the 
tight, till I was carried from the ground." 
" His name, General ?" asked Mr. Wilkes. 
"He was a young man, recently from 
college, named George W. Smalley, 
and I am writing to him now." No 
one will regard General Hooker's opin- 
ion of Mr. Smalley as any too high. 
Similar, too, in descriptive ability and 
power, was the war correspondence of 
such men as Knox, Richardson, Conying- 
ham. Coffin, Browne, Taylor, Bickham, 
Crounse, Colburn, Davis, Beid, and some 
others. 



LXVI. 

PROCLAMATION OF EMANCIPATION, AS A WAR MEAS- 
URE, BY PRESIDENT LINCOLN— 1 863, 



More than Three Millions, in Bondage at the South, Declared Forever Free. — Most Important Amer- 
ican State Paper Since July 4th, 1776 — Pronounced, by the President, " the Great Event of the 
Nineteenth Century." — The VVIiole System ot' Slavery Finally Swept from the Republic, by Vic- 
tories in tlie Field and by Constitutional Amendments. — Mr. Lincoln's Views on Slavery. — Opposed 
to all Unconstitutional Acts. — His Orders to Union Generals. — Prohibits the Arming of Negroes. — 
Alarming Progress ol" Events. — The Great Exigency at Last — Slavery versus the Union. — Solemn 
and Urgent Alternative — Emancipation Under the War Power. — Preparation of the Great Document, 
— Its Submission to the Cabinet. — Opinions and Discussions — Singular Keason for Delay. — Mr. Lin- 
coln's Vow to God. — Waiting for a Union Triumph. — Deciiied by the liatlle of Antietam. — Final 
Adoption of the Measure. — Mr. Carpenter's Admirable Narrative. — Public Keception of the Procla- 
mation. — Proinulgation at the South. — Scenes of Joy Among the Freedmen. — Enfranchisement 
Added to Freedom. 



" Ami iipxn this act, sincerely believed to be an act of juatice. warranted by the Constitution, upon military necessity, I InTolce theeon- 
BMlerate judguiuut of mankind, and ttie gracious favor of Almigtity God."— Tue PBoci.AUATloif. 



EALOUSLY cherishing the humane personal wish, " that all men every- 
where might be free," — as expressed by himself in one of his most mem- 
orable political letters, — and inflexibly objecting to the introduction of 
slavery into the new national territories, President Lincoln, nevertheless, 
on every occasion avowed his opposition to all unconstitutional meas- 
ures of interference with that system, as it existed in the States of the 
South. Only under the stupendous exigency precipitated upon him 
and upon the country, by the war inaugurated at Fort Sumter, and 
now carried on with such direful loss of blood and treasure for two long 
years, for the destruction of the Union, did he avail himself of the high 
and solemn prerogative of his position, as the sworn protector and 
defender of the nation, to decree, substantially, the utter extinction of 
slavery throughout all the borders of the land. 

It was a war measure, done " upon military necessity," and in the 
grave performance of which President Lincoln said :" I could not feel 
that, to the best of my ability, I had even tried to preserve the Constitu- 
tion, if, to preserve slavery, or any minor matter, I should permit the 
wreck of government, country, and constitution altogether. V/hen, early 
in the war, General rremont attempted military emancipation, I forbade 
it, because I did not then think it an indispensable necessity. When, a 
little later. General Cameron, then secretary of war, suggested the arm- 
ing of the blacks, I objected, because I did not yet think it an indispen- 
sable necessity. When, still inter. General Hunter attempted military 



PEOCLAMATION OF EMANCIPATION. 



545 



emancipation, I again forbade it, because 
I did not yet think the indispensable 
necessity had come. When, in March and 
May and July, 1862, I made earnest and 
successive appeals to the border states to 
favor compensated emancipation, I believed 
the indispensable necessity for military 
emancipation and arming the blacks would 
come, unless averted by that measure. 
They declined the proposition; and I 
was, in my best judgment, driven to the 
alternative of either surrendering the 
Union, and with it the Constitution, or of 
laying strong hand upon the colored ele- 
ment. I chose the latter." It will thus 
be seen that, so far from being rash or 
aggressive in his anti-slavery policy, he 
favored no step in that direction, until 
driven to it as a last and remediless alter- 
native, from which there seemed no possi- 
ble escape. 




Singularly enough, this great measure 

involving as mighty a moral, social, and 

political revolution as was ever accom- 
plished in any age or in any country— was 
distinctly expounded and foreshadowed by 
John Quincy Adams, in a remarkable 
debate which took place in the lower house 
of congress, in 1842, and in the course of 
which he said : " I believe that, so long as 
the slave states are able to sustain their 
institutions, without going abroad or call- 
ing upon other parts of the Union to aid 
them or act on the subject, so long I will 
consent never to interfere. I have said 



this ; and I repeat it ; but, if they come tc 
the free states and say to them, ' You must 
help us to keep down our slaves, you must 
aid us in an insurrection and a civil war,' 
then I say that, with that call, comes a full 
and plenary power to this house, and to the 
senate, over the whole subject. It is a 
war power; I say it is a war power; and 
when your country is actually in war, 
whether it be a war of invasion or a war 
of insurrection, congress has power to carry 
on the war, and must carry it on according 
to the laws of war ; and, by the laws of war, 
an invaded country has all its laws and 
municipal institutions swept by the board, 
and martial law takes the place of them. 
This power in congress has, perhaps, never 
been called into exercise under the present 
constitution of the United States. But, 
when the laws of war are in force, what, 
I ask, is one of those laws ? It is this : 
that when a country is invaded, and two 
hostile armies are set in martial array, the 
commanders of both armies have power to 
emancipate all the slaves in the invaded 
territory." In proof of the correctness of 
his assertion, Mr. Adams cited the well- 
known historical case of the abolition of 
slavery in Colombia, first by Murillo, the 
Spanish general, and subsequently by 
Bolivar, the American general, in each case 
as a military act, and observed and main- 
tained to this day. 

Though the great American Proclamar 
tion of Emancipation did not appear until 
January 1, 1863, President Lincoln's mind 
had for some months previously been drift- 
ing in the direction of some such act. As 
he himself expressed it, everything was 
going wrong— the nation seemed to liave 
put forth about its utmost efforts, and he 
really didn't know what more to do, unless 
he did this. Accordingly, he prepared a pre- 
liminary proclamation, nearly in the form 
in which it subsequently appeared, called 
the cabinet together, and n ■ !' m, 

with the following result, as repor 

Mr. Montgomery Blair -d. 

" If you issue that proclama es- 

ident," he exclaimed, "you all )o,- ry 

one of the fall elections." 



016 



PROCLAMATION OF EMANCIPATION 



Mr Seward, on the other hand, said, " I 
apiiriive of it, Mr. President, just as it 
stands. I approve of it in principle, and 
I approve the policy of issuing it. I onl}' 
object to the time. Send it out now, on 
the heels of our late disasters, and it will 
be construed as the convulsive struggle of 
a drowning man. To give it proper weight, 
you should reserve it until after some vic- 
tory." The president assented to Mr. 
Seward's view, and held the document in 
reserve. It appeared to the president, 
that Mr. Seward's opinion was of great 
wisdom and force. 

Perhaps no account of this most memo- 
rable event can he said to equal, in relia- 
bility and graphic interest, that which is 
furnished by Mr. F. B. Carpenter, in his 
reminiscences of " Six Months at the 
White House," while employed there in 




Cq_(xkxk-#^iAa "^Xa/^ 



\jO'\/<>^ 



executing that unrivaled masterpiece of 
American historical painting — the Procla- 
111 ition of Emancipation — which, by uni- 
versal consent, has placed Mr. Carpenter's 
name second to none on the roll of eminent 
modern artists. Enjoying, too, as he did, 
the most intimate personal relations with 
the autlior of that proclamation, the infor- 
mation which lie thus obtained from the 
president's own lips, as to its origin, dis- 
cussion, and final adoption, must forever 
be the source from which, on this subject, 
all historians must draw. 

As already stated, the opinion of the 



secretary of state in regard to the effect of 
issuing such a proclamation at such a time, 
impressed Mr. Lincoln verj' strongly. " It 
was an- aspect of the case that" — said 
President Lincoln to Mr. Carpenter, — " in 
all my thought upon the subject, I had 
entirely overlooked. The result was that 
I put the draft of the proclamation aside, 
as j-ou do your sketch for a picture, wait- 
ing for a victory. From time to time I 
added or changed a line, touching it up 
here and there, anxiously watching the 
progress of events. Well, the next news 
we had was of Pope's disaster at Bull Run. 
Things looked darker than ever. Finally, 
came the week of the battle of Antietam. 
I determined to wait no longer. The news 
came, I think, on Wednesday, that the 
advantage was on our side. I was then 
staying at the Soldiers' Home (three 
miles out of Washington). Here I fin- 
ished writing the second draft of the pre- 
liminary proclamation ; came up on Sat- 
urday ; called the cabinet together to hear 
it, and it was published the following 
Monday." At the final meeting of Sep- 
tember 20th, another incident occurred in 
connection with Secretary Seward. The 
president had written the important part 
of the proclamation in these words : — 

" That, on the first day of January, in 
the year of our Lord one thousand eight 
hundred and sixty-three, all persons held 
as slaves within any State or designated 
part of a State, the people whereof shall 
then be in rebellion against the United 
States, shall be then, thenceforward, and 
forever Fkee ; and the Executive Govern- 
ment of the United States, including the 
military and naval authority thereof, will 
recof)nize the freedom of such persons, and 
will do no act or acts to repress such per- 
sons, or any of them, in any efforts they 
may make for their actual freedom." 

" When I finished reading this para- 
graph," resumed Mr. Lincoln, "Mr. Seward 
stopped me, and said, ' I think, Mr. Presi- 
dent, that you should insert after the word 
" recognize," in that sentence, the worda 
" and maintain." ' I replied that I had 
alreadj' considered the import of that ex- 



PROCLAMATION OF EMANCIPATION. 



547 



pression in this connection, but I had not 
introduced it, because it was not my way 
to promise what I was not entirely sure 
tliat I could perform, and I was' not pre- 
pared to say that I thought we were 
exactly able to ' maintain ' this. But 
Seward insisted that we ought to take this 
ground, and the words finally went in. It 
IS a somewhat remarkable fact," he subse- 
quently added, " that there were just one 
hundred days between the dates of the two 
proclamations issued upon tlie 22d of Sep- 
tember and the 1st of January." 



bany, N. Y., in 1864 ; it is in the proper 
handwriting of Mr. Lincoln, excepting two 
interlineations in pencil, by Secretary 
Seward, and the formal heading and end- 
ing, which were written by the chief clerk 
of the state department. The final proc- 
lamation was signed on New Year's Day, 
1863. The president remarked to Mr. 
Colfax, the same evening, that the signa- 
ture appeared somewhat tremulous and 
uneven. " Not," said he, " because of any 
uncertainty or hesitation on my part ; but 
it was just after the public reception, and 




The original draft of the proclamation 
was written upon one side of four half- 
sheets or official foolscap. " He flung down 
upon the table one day for me," continues 
Mr. Carpenter, " several sheets of the" same, 
saying, ' There, I believe, is some of the 
very paper which was used — if not, it was, 
at any rate just like it.' " The original draft 
is dated September 22, 1862, and was pre- 
sented to the Army Relief Bazaar, at Al- 



three hours' hand-shaking is not calculated 
to improve a man's chirography." Then 
changing his tone, he added : " The south 
had fair warning, that if they did not 
return to their duty, I should strike at 
this pillar of their strength. The promise 
must now be kept, and I shall never recall 
one word." 

In answer to a question from Mr. Car- 
penter, as to whether the policy of eman- 



548 



PROCLAiLlTION OF E.MA2s'CIPATI0y. 



cipation was not opposed by some mem- 
bers of the cabinet, the president replied : 
'•Nothing more than I have stated to yoiu 
Mr. Blair thought we should lose the fall 
elections, and opposed it on that ground 
only.'' " I have understood,"' said Mr. 
Carpenter, " that Secretary Smith was not 
in favor of your action. 3Ir. Blair told me 
that, when the meeting closed, he and the 
secretary of the interior went away to- 
gether, and that the latter said to him, 
that if the president carried out that pol- 
icy, he might count on losing Indiana, 
sure ! "' '• He never said anything of the 
kind to me," responded the president 
'• And what is ilr. Blair's opinion now ? •'' 
I asked. '-'Oh,"' was the prompt reply, 
'•■ he proved right in regard to the fall elec- 
tions, but he is satisfied that we have since 
gained more than we lost." " I have been 
told," I added, " that Judge Bates doubted 
the constitutionality of the proclamation." 
"He never expressed such an opinion in 
my hearing," replied Mr. Lincoln; "no 
member of the cabinet ever dissented from 
the policy, in conversation with me." 

It is well known that the statement 
found very general currency and credence, 
that, on the proclamation having been 
read to the cabinet. Secretary Chase ob- 
jected to the appearance of a document of 
such momentous character without one 
word beyond the dry phrases necessary to 
convey its meaning, and finally proposed 
that there should be added to the presi- 
dent's draft, the sentence — 'And upon this 
act, sincerely believed to be an act of jus- 
tice, warranted by the constitution, I 
invoke the considerate judgment of man- 
kind, and the gracious favor of Almighty 
God.' The facts of the case, however, as 
learned by Mr. Carpenter were these : 
While the measure was pending, Mr. Chase 
submitted to the president a draft of a 
proclamation embodving his views of the 
subject, and which closed with the solemn 
and appropriate words referred to. Mr. 
Lincoln adopted the sentence intact, as 
Mr. Chase wrote it, excepting that he 
inserted after the word ' constitution,' the 
words ' upon military necessity ; ' and in 



that form the document went to the world, 
ana to history. 

ilr. Carpenter also makes an interesting 
statement touching the religious aspect of 
ilr. Lincoln's mind, concerning this mo- 
mentous matter, as follows : Mr. Chase 
told me that at the cabinet meeting, imme- 
diately after the battle of Antietam, and 
just prior to the September proclamation, 
the president entered upon the business 
before them, by saying that "the time 
for the annunciation of the emancipation 
policy could be no longer delayed. Public 
sentiment," he thought, "would sustain it 
— many of his warmest friends and sup- 
porters demanded it — and he had prom- 
ised his God that he would do it!" 
The last part of this was uttered in a low 
tone, and appeared to be heard by no one 
but Secretary Chase, who was sitting near 
him. He asked the president if he had 
correctly understood him. ilr. Lincoln 
replied : " I made a solemn vow before 
God, that if General Lee was driven back 
from Pennsylvania, I would crown the 
resvdt by the declaration of freedom to the 
slaves." In February, 1865, a few days 
after the passage of the Constitutional 
Amendment, Mr. Carpenter went to "Wash- 
ington, and was received by Mr. Lincoln 
with the kindness and familiarity which 
had characterized their previous inter- 
course. I said to him at this time, (says 
Mr. Carpenter.) that I was very proud to 
have been the artist to have first conceived 
the design of painting a picture commem- 
orative of the Act of Emancipation ; that 
subsequent occurrences had only confirmed 
my own first judgment of that act as the 
most sublime moral event in our history. 
" Yes," said he, — and never do I remem- 
ber to have noticed in him more earnest- 
ness of expression or manner, — '• as affairs 
have turned, it is the central act of my 
administration, and the great event of the 
nineteenth century.''' 

The scope of this most important state 
paper ever issued since the Declaration of 
Independence, was, to give liberty to more 
than three mUlions of people, — a number 
equal to the whole population of the 



PROCLAMATION OF EMANCIPATION 



649 




650 



PROCLAMATION OF EMANCIPATION. 



United States when the revohitionary 
struggle with Great Britain commenced, 
and about four-fifths of the whole slave 
population. The work of emancipation 
throughout all the borders of the land was 
completed by victories in the field, and the 
adoption of the Constitutional Amendment, 
Article XIII., by which slavery was for- 
ever and entirely swept from the Republic. 

The reception of the proclamation by 
the millions who were ranged on the side 
of their country, praying and fighting for 
the success of the union cause, was warm 
and enthusiastic, the feeling being almost 
universally prevalent that the nation had 
entered upon a new and auspicious era, 
and that, under such a banner, heaven 
would crown our armies with victory, and 
give perpetuity to our republic among the 
governments of the earth. Generally, the 
great document was the theme of earnest 
and eloquent discourses from the northern 
pulpits, the current of the preachers' 
thoughts showing itself in the various sub- 
jects or titles under which the event was 
discussed, such as ' The Conflict between 
Despotism and Liberty,' 'The duty of 
uniting with our whole energies in execut- 
ing the Emancipation Edict of the presi- 
dent, to accomplish, by the blessing of 
God, its beneficent results, without possi- 
bility of failure,' ' The Jubilee of Free- 
dom,' 'The Influence of Christianity on 
the Abolition of Slavery,' — these, though 
but a few among thousands elicited by the 
proclamation, indicate the hearty appreci- 
ation of President Lincoln's course in issu- 
ing the decree. From countless pulpits, 
too, the momentous document was simply 
read, without comment. 

Great public meetings of congratulation 
and rejoicing were held in almost every 
large town and city in tlie various north- 
ern states. At the Cooper Institute, New 
York, a grand jubilee came off, the colored 
people of that city and of the surrounding 
towns for many miles, g.athering together 
to do honor to so great a boon to their 
race. The large hall was completely 
packed, long before the hour at which the 
proceedings were appointed to take place. 



and multitudes had to be turned away 
from the feast of eloquence and music 
which was there enjoyed for several hours. 

Two days after the issue of the procla- 
mation, a large body of people assembled 
before the White House, in Washington, 
with a band of music, and called for the 
president. He appeared, and made an 
address of thanks to them for their cour- 
tesy, in which, alluding to the proclama- 
tion, he said, " What I did, I did after a 
very full deliberation, and under a heavy 
and solemn sense of responsibility. I can 
only trust in God I have made no mis- 
take." From the colored people of Balti- 
more, Mr. Lincoln was the recipient of a 
superb copy of the Bible, of the largest 
size, and bound in violet-colored velvet. 
The corners were bands of solid gold, and 
the event carved upon a plate also of gold, 
not less than one-fourth of an inch thick. 
Upon the left-hand cover, was a design 
representing the president in a cotton- 
field, knocking the shackles off the wrists 
of a slave, who held one hand aloft as if in- 
voking blessings upon the head of his ben- 
efactor, — at whose feet was a scrcll upon 
which was written " Emancipation ; " upon 
the other cover was a similar plate, bear- 
ing the inscription : " To Abraham Lin- 
coln, President of the United States, the 
friend of Universal Freedom. From the 
loyal colored people of Baltimore, as a 
token of respect and gratitude. Baltimore, 
July 4, 1864." 

But the greatest interest necessarily 
attaches to the reception which such an 
amazing document met with on the part 
of those who were or had recently been 
slaves. Although by the terms of the 
proclamation, the cities of Norfolk and 
Portsmouth, Va., were excluded from its 
operation, the slaves fully believed that 
'Massa Lincoln' had emancipated them all; 
with this view, they refused to work with- 
out wages, and, their former masters ac- 
ceding to this, virtual emancipation was 
the result in that region. On New Year's 
day, the slaves of Norfolk, Portsmouth, 
and Gosport, with the African strangers 
gathered there, to the number of some 



PROCLAMATION OF EMAI^CIPATION. 



551 



thousands, turned out en masse, and by 
processions, speeches, hymns and songs of 
jubihxtion, and bj' other demonstrations, 
celebrated what was ever afterward to be 
their Fourth of July. The exultation of 
the slaves was great, and many a notice- 
able incident presented itself. "Massa," 
said an old woman to a stranger near by, 
" I have had twenty children. My Massa 
and Missus sole 'em all off ; one of my 
gals was sole to buy young Missus her 
piano. I used to stop my ears when I 
heard her play on dat ar; I thought I 
heard my chile a crying out dat it was 
bought wid her blood. Dey was all sole 
off, — I'se not got one left to bury me. 
But I'se free ! and my ole heart is glad 
agin. I'll go happy to my grave." In 
one of the colored churches in Norfolk, the 
preacher took for his text, " Stand fast, 
therefore, in the liberty wherewith Christ 
has made j'ou free," and with great inge- 
nuity, and without irreverence, the 
preacher showed how President Lincoln, 
in emancipating them, had stood in Christ's 
stead to them, and how it was now their 
duty to stand fast, and fight for the liberty 
which he, under God, had given them. 
Singular enough, there rose from the 
whole congregation a cry, as if with one 
voice, "Amen ! glory be to God ! we'll 
fight till de cows' tails drop off! " 

In the Department of the South, em- 
bracing Port Eoyal, S. C, and other 
islands, it was very difficult to convince 
the colored people that they were free, and 
that the government, or Yankees, could be 
in earnest. Christmas was to most of 
them a sad day. General Saxton, there- 
fore, who spared no effort to disabuse 
their minds and inspire them with confi- 
dence, issued his proclamation inviting the 
people to assemble at the head-quarters of 
the First South Carolina Volunteers, on 
the first of January. Missionaries, min- 
isters, superintendents and teachers, offi- 
cers and privates, joined heartily in the 
gathering. The word went out far and 
near, but the people were suspicious. 
Mischievous onos had told them it was a 
trap to fores them into the army ; others 



that they were to be collected on steam- 
boats that would run them to Cuba ; oth- 
ers that they were to be got away from 
their homes and sent into exile. But, at 
an early hour of the sublimely beautiful 
day, the people began to arrive at the 
camping-ground, and, despite their fears, 
thousands were there. The proceedings 
opened with prayer and music, after which, 
Judge Brisbane, of Wisconsin, but a son 
of South Carolina who, twenty-five years 
previously, set all his slaves free, read the 
emancipation act amidst the jubilant 
shouts of the vast multitude ; and when, 
succeeding this, the proclamation of Gen- 
eral Saxton was read, declaring that the 
great act should be enforced, twelve deaf- 
ening cheers burst forth from the thou- 
sands of grateful and joyous hearts to 
whom the good tidings of liberty and pro- 
tection had thus come. An original ode 
was then sung to the tune of ' Scots wha' 
ha' wi' Wallace bled," and then came the 
crowning feature of the day, the presenta- 
tion by the Rev. Mr. French of a splendid 
silk flag, with the embroidered inscription: 

" To the First South Carolina Regiment. 
The year of jubilee has come." 

It was a very elegant flag, a gift from 
Doctor Cheever's church in the city of 
New York. As it passed from the hands 
of Mr. French, the negroes struck up the 
national air, " My country, 'tis of thee," 
with fine effect. Colonel Higginson, who 
had received the flag, stood waiting his 
time to reply, with the golden tassels in 
his hands. After an eloquent speech by 
the colonel, he called the sergeant of Com- 
pany A, "Prince Rivers," and a corporal 
of another companj', named Sutton, both 
black men, and, handing over the flag 
which had been presented, called upon 
both to speak, which they did with great 
acceptance. Other exercites of rejoicing 
took place, and then attention was paid to 
the physical wants of the happy throng. 
For this purpose, ten beeves had been 
slaughtered and were roasting in their 
pits ; and these, with several hundred gal- 
lons of molasses and water, — a favorite 
beverage of the negroes, — and a full supply 



552 



PEOCLAMATION OF EMAI^CIPATION. 



of hard bread, awaited the hungry expect- 
ants. Thus ended the grand celebration 
of the emancipation of the slaves of South 
Carolina. 

The observance of the event in other 
parts of the south, wherever the authority 
of the union forces was present to permit 
it, was so similar in its character and 
enthusiasm to what has already been nar- 
rated, that it is unnecessary here to extend 
the descriptions. By the army and its 
officers, with here and there an exception, 
the proclamation was regarded as an act to 
which things Iiad long been tending, and 
which, under the circumstances of peril in 
which the union had so long been placed, 
was inevitable. Of course, no such proc- 
lamation, in time of war, could have any 
weight in the section of country at which 
it was aimed, excepting as the union mili- 
tary successes made it effective. Those 
successes in due time reached every por- 
tion of the south, and the fetters of every 
bondman on American soil were thus 
broken. Congress subsequently passed an 
amendment to the constitution, forever 
prohibiting slavery in any portion of the 
republic, and this amendment, on being 
ratified by the requisite number of states, 
became a part of the organic law of the 
land. 

The original draft of the emancipation 
proclamation, in the president's handwrit- 
ing, was presented by Mr. Lincoln to the 
great Northwestern Sanitary Fair, held at 
Chicago, in the autumn of 18C3. The fol- 
lowing letter accompanied the gift: 

Executive IMansion, 
Washington, October 26, 1863. 

To the Ladies having in charge the 
Northwestern Fair for the Sanitary Com- 
mission, Chicago, Illinois: — 

According to the request made in your 
behalf, the original draft of the emancipa- 
tion proclamation is herewith enclosed. 
The formal words at the top, and the con- 
clusion, except the signature, j'ou perceive, 
are not in my handwriting. They were 
written at the State Department, by whom 
I know not. The printed part was cut 



from a copy of the preliminary proclama^ 
tion and pasted on, merely to save writing. 
I had some desire to retain the paper; 
but if it shall contribute to the relief or 
comfort of the soldier, that will be better. 
Your obedient servant, 

A. Lincoln. 

This chief treasure of that great fair was 
purchased for three thousand dollars, by 
the Hon. Thomas B. Bryan, for the Chi- 
cago Soldiers' Home, of which he was 
president. Lithographic copies of the doc- 
ument were also sold for the benefit of the 
same institution, and netted it thousands 
of dollars. 

One of the most important results of this 
great measure, whether considered from a 
moral, political, or social point of view, 
was the Fifteenth Amendment to the Con- 
stitution of the United States, by which 
all citizens were made equal before the 
law. 

It was on the twenty-seventh of Febru- 
ary, 1869, that congress passed a resolu- 
tion in the following words: 

A resolution proposing an amendment 
to the Constitution of the United States. 

liesolved, By the Senate and House of 
Representatives of the United States of 
America, in Congress assembled, two- 
thirds of both Houses concurring, that the 
following article be proposed to the legis- 
latures of the several States as an amend- 
ment to the Constitution of the United 
States, which, wlien ratified by three- 
fourths of the said legislatures, shall be 
valid as a part of the Constitution, namely: 
— Article 15, Section 1. The right of 
citizens of the United States to vote shall 
not be denied or abridged by the United 
States, or by any State, on account of race, 
color, or previous condition of servitude. 
Section 2. Congress sb'll have power to 
enforce this article by appropriate legisla- 
tion. 

In about one year's time from the pas- 
sage of this resolution, proclamation was 
made by the secretary of state. Hon. Ham- 
ilton Fish, that the proposed amendment 
had been ratified by the legislatures of the 



PROCLAMATION OF EMANCIPATION. 



553 



states of North Carolina, West Virginia, 
Massachusetts, Wisconsin, Maine, Louisi- 
ana, Michigan, South Carolina, Pennsj-1- 
vania, Arkansas, Connectii'ut, Florida, 
Illinois, Indiana, New York, New Hamp- 
shire, Nevada, Vermont, Virginia, Ala- 
bama, Missouri, Mississippi, Ohio, Iowa, 
Kansas, Minnesota, Rhode Island, Ne- 
braska, and Texas, — twenty-nine in all, 
and constituting three-fourths of the whole 
number of states, and thus becoming valid, 
to all intents and purposes, as a part of 
the constitution of the United States. 

Though not obligatory, as an executive 
duty. President Grant communicated the 
fact of the ratification to congress, in a 
special message, on the thirtieth of March, 
1870. "The measure" — said the presi- 
dent — " which makes at once four millions 
of the people voters who were heretofore 
declared by the highest tribunal in the 
land not citizens of the United States, nor 
eligible to become so, with the assertion 
tjat at the time of the Declaration of In- 



dependence the opinion was fixed and uni- 
versal in the civilized portion of the white 
race, and regarded as an axiom in morals 
as well as in politics, that black men had 
no rights which white men were bound to 
respect, is, indeed, a measure of grander 
importance than any other one act of the 
kind from the foundation of our free gov- 
ernment to the present time. Institutions 
like ours, in which all power is derived 
directly from the people, must depend 
mainly upon their intelligence, patriotism, 
and industry. I call the attention, there- 
fore, of the newly enfranchised race to the 
importance of their striving, in every hon- 
orable manner, to make themselves worthy 
of their new privilege. To a race more 
favored heretofore by our laws, I would 
say, withhold no legal privilege of advance- 
ment to the new citizens." So great an 
event was not suffered to pass without pub- 
lic demonstrations of joy commensurate 
with its grand, beneficent, and elevating 
scope, in almost all parts of the country. 



LXVII. 



CAMPAIGN AGAINST VICKSBURG, "THE GIBRALTAR OF 
THE MISSISSIPPI," BY THE UNION FORCES.— 1863. 



The Genius, Valor, ami Resources o£ Both Armies Tasked to their Utmost. — Final Capitulation of the 
Citv hv General Pemherton, After a Prolonged and Brilliant Siege. — Heaviest Blow Yet Dealt the 
Seoession Cause. — General McPherson Receives the Formal Surrender. — Thirty-seven Thousand 
Prisoners, Fifteen Generals, Arms and Munitions for Si.xty Thousand Men, the Trophies. — Geograph- 
ical Importance of Vicksburg. — Its Commanding Fortifications — Farragut's Naval Siege Powerless 
— Sherman's Attack Repulsed. — Grant Assumes Active Command. — Vigorous Operations Undertaken. 
— His Series of Victorious Battles. — Futile Attempt to Storm Vickslmrg — Hours of Terrific Can- 
nonading. — A Systematic Siege Begun. — Thorough Investment at all Points — Federal Sapping and 
Mining. — They Mine and Blow up Fort Hill. — Awful Spectacle of Blood and Ruin. — Deadly Strug- 
gle for a Foothold. — Success of the Forty-fifth Illinois — Their Colors Surmount tlie Work. — Pemher- 
ton Sends a Flag of Truce. — His Interview with Grant. — Grant's Terms: "Unconditional Surrender." 
— The Victors Enter the City, July 4th. — Curious Reminiscences. 



" No thought nf fiich.. 
None of retrrnt, no iinbecominL' dpfd 
Thatarirued f<-ur ; eafh one hiinm-U relied 
A-'onlTinnia urm the Uiouieut lay 
Of Victory 1 " 




OPERATIONS AT TICKSBCRG. 



nU.-VVES, infantry, cavalry, artillery, — offi- 
cers and privates, — picket, scout, andsjJj, — 
brave legions, led on by brave generals of 
heroic purpose to noblest deeds, — won glo- 
rious honor to American arms, and to the 
more sacred cause of the American Union, 
y the capture of the city of Vicksburg, the 
stronghold of Mississippi, with all its defenses 
and munitions, and its valorous army ; — an event 
which, occurring on the fourth of Jul}', filled the 
hearts of all loj'al Americans with peculiar joy, 
while it was confessedly the heaviest and most 
disastrous military blow which the confederate 
cause had yet received during the two long j-ears 
of most eventful struggle. 

Situated on the Mississippi river, on a com- 
manding elevation, four hundred miles above New 
Orleans, and fifty miles west of Jackson, it was the most 
important point on the river between Natchez and Memphis, 
and, at an early day, was strongly fortified by the confeder- 
ate authorities of the state, forts being erected and abundance 
of artillery supplied. More than a year before the final 



CAMPAIGN AGAINST VICKSBURG. 



555 



eapitnlation of the place under General 
Femberton to General Grant, the union 
forces laid siege to the city, and Farragut 
demanded the surrender of the forts ; the 
silencing of the confederate batteries at 
Grand Gulf, was among the earlier opera- 
tions of the union gun-boats, which also 
shelled the city for several weeks. Farra- 
gut raised the naval siege, July 24, 1862. 
General Grant had taken command of the 
union army in that quarter in June, of the 
same year, and, in December, organized 
his army into four grand corps, — the Thir- 
teenth, Fifteenth, Sixteenth, and Seven- 
teenth, commanded respectively by Gen- 
erals McClernand, Sherman, Hurlbut, and 
McPherson. At the close of this month, 
Sherman started from Memphis, passed 
down the Mississippi to the mouth of the 
Yazoo, some ten miles above Vicksburg, 
and ascending that river, advanced upon 
Vicksburg on the north side, but, after 
three days of severe fighting, was com- 
pelled to retire with heavy loss. For a 
time, the attack on the city was abandoned 
as futile. 

Early in February, 1863, General Grant 
arrived and assumed active personal com- 
mand of military operations, which he con- 
ducted with great tact and vigor, succes- 
sively defeating his opponents in engage- 
ments at Port Gibson, Fourteen Mile 
Greek, Raymond, Jackson, Champion's 
Hill, and Big Black Bridge. The naval 
forces co-operating in these movements 
were under the efficient direction of Ad- 
mirals Farragut and Porter. 

After thoroughly investing the city on 
all sides, the union troops forming a semi- 
circle, with both flanks resting on the 
river, an unsuccessful assault was made, 
May 23d, by the combined land and naval 
forces. The attack was a terrible one. 
According to the correspondent of the Chi- 
cago Tribune, it was characterized by the 
following incidents: During the night, 
the gun-boats and mortars lying in front of 
the city kept up a continual fire, and 
dropped their fiery messengers right and 
left without distinction. During this bom- 
bardment several buildings were set on 



fire by the exploding shells, and lighted 
up the darkness, revealing strange shapes 
and wonderful outlines, standing out in 
relief against the dark sky, which added 
wonderful interest to the bombardment as 
witnessed by the distant observer. It ia 
impossible to estimate the damage occa- 
sioned by thus dropping into Vicksburg 
those heavy eleven and thirteen inch shells. 
Imagination falls far short of its reality. 
Before the union forces approached the 
city, General Pemberton ordered all the 
women and children for miles around 
Vicksburg to go within the intrenchments, 
assuring them that in that way they would 
escajie all danger. The consequence was, 
that there were a large number of non- 
combatants in the city, exposed to all the 
dangers of siege and bombardment. At 
eight o'clock in the morning the cannon- 
ading began, and continued, with scarcely 
a moment's intermission, along the entire 
line, until ten o'clock. From every hill- 
top in front of the confederate works, 
cannon were belching forth, and the fiery 
tempest raged fearfully. Guns were dis- 
mounted, embrasures torn up, parapets 
destroyed, and caissons exploded. It was 
a fearful demonstration. For two long 
hours did this cannonade continue, when 
a general charge was made. Winding 
through the vallej's, clambering over the 
hills everywhere, subjected to a murder- 
ous enfilading and cross-fire, the advance 
pressed up close to the confederate works 
— to find that a deep ditch, protected by 
sharp stakes along the outer edge, lay 
between them and the intrenchments. 
They planted their flag directly before the 
fort, and crouched down behind the em- 
bankment, out of range c? Hie confederate 
fire, as calmly as possible, to await devel- 
opments. The soldiers within the forts 
could not rise above the parapet to fire at 
them, for if they did, a hundred bullets 
went whizzing through the air, and the 
adventurers died. The confederates, how- 
ever, adopted another plan ; taking a shell, 
they cut the fuse close off, lighted it, and 
rolled it over the outer slope of the em- 
bankment. Subsequently, with picks and 



_; 



556 



CAMPAIGN AGAINST VICKSBURG. 



shovels, a way \i'.is dug into one fort, and 
through the breach the boys walked 
bravely in. The first fort on the left of 
the railroad was stormed by a portion of 
General Carr's division, and gallantly 
taken ; the colonel that led the charge was 
wounded. On the center the fire was per- 
sistent and terrible. Many brave ofiicers 
were killed and many more wounded. 
Colonel Dollins, of the Eightj'-first Illinois, 
fell dead while leading his men to the 
charge. Later in the afternoon, General 
Ransom's brigade charged the works oppo- 
site his position, with heavy loss. Steele 
and Tattle, on the right, were also vigor- 
ously engaged, the loss sustained by the 
former being ccasiderable. 




GENERAL J. C. PEMBERTON. 

The result of this assault rendered it 
quite certain that Vicksburg could not be 
taken by storm, and every possible appli- 
ance was immediately put into requisition 
by General Grant to accomplish his pur- 
pose by sj'stematic siege, and sappers and 
miners performed an important part in 
this great undertaking. The details of 
this kind of work are well understood by 
all, and need not be repeated here. Suf- 
fice it to say, that one of the principal con- 
federate forts was soon reached by this 
subterranean process, — the miners keeping 
incessantly busy, day and night, until they 
arrived far under the confederate fortifica- 
tions, and within such near proximity to 
the enemy, that the picks and shovels of 
the latter, similarly engaged in the bowels 
of the earth, could frequently be heard, — 



necessitating, above all things, incessant 
wariness and the utmost possible expedi- 
tion. How the matter was carried through, 
the following account, made up from the 
admirable dispatches of Messrs. Keim and 
Fitzpatrick, of the New York Herald, will 
abundantly show : 

On the morning of June 25th, the work 
of mining (says Mr. Fitzpatrick,) was com- 
pleted, an immense quantity of gunpowder 
was stored in the cavity prepared to re- 
ceive it, and the fuse train was laid. At 
noon, the different regiments of the Sev- 
enteenth corps, selected to make the assault 
on the breach when it should have been 
effected, were marshaled in long lines 
upon the near slopes of the hills immedi- 
ately confronting the doomed fortifications, 
where, disposed for the attack, imj)atiently 
awaited the event. The confederates 
seemed to have discovered that some move- 
ment was on foot, for, from the moment 
the federal troops came into position, until 
the explosion took place, their sharpshoot- 
ers kept up an incessant fire from the 
whole line of their works. 

At length all was in readiness ; the fuse 
train was fired, find it went fizzing and 
popping through the zigzag line of 
trenches, until for a moment it vanished. 
Its disappearance was quickly succeeded 
by the explosion, and the mine under Fort 
Hill was sprung. So terrible a spectacle 
is seldom ivitnessed. Dust, dirt, smoke, 
gabions, stockades, timber, gun-carriages, 
logs — in fact, everything connected with 
the fort — rose hundreds of feet into the 
air, as if vomited forth from a volcano. It 
is described by all who saw it as an awful 
scene. 

No sooner had the explosion taken place 
(writes Mr. Keim), than the two detach- 
ments acting as the forlorn hojje ran into 
the fort and sap. A brisk musketry fire 
at once commenced between the two par- 
ties, with about equal effect on either side. 
No sooner had these detachments become 
well engaged than the rest of Leggett's 
brig.ade joined them and entered into the 
struggle. The regiments relieving each 
other at intervals, the contest now grew 



CAMPAIGN AGAINST VICKSBUEG. 




557 



severe, both sides, determined upon holding 
their own, were doing their best. Volley 
after volley was fired, though with less car- 
nage than would be supposed. The Forty- 
fifth Illinois now charged immediately 
up to the crest of the parapet, and here 
suffered its heaviest, losing many officers 
in the assault. After a severe contest of 
half an hour, with varying results, the 
flag of the Forty-fifth appeared vpon the 
summit of the work ! The position was 
gained. Cheer after chepr broke through 
the confusion and uproar of the contest, 
assuring the troops everywhere along the 
line that the Forty-fifth was still itself. 
The colonel was now left alone in command 
of the regiment, and he was himself badly 
bruised by a flying splinter. The regi- 
ment had also suffered severely in the line, 
and the troops were worn out by excessive 
heat and hard fighting. Belief was nec- 
essary. Accordingly, another Illinois reg- 
iment wag ordered up, and the Forty-fifth 
drawn off; this was at six o'clock p. m. 
After this, the action was kept up briskly 
but steadily for several hours, until dusk, 
when the firing lulled and the men took a 
respite. While the Forty-fifth was so 
hotly engaged in the fort, the Twenty-third 
Indiana followed its first detachment into 
the sap, from which place they were to 
hold the confederates at bay during the 
contest for the fort. The confederates 
fought desperately, as well at this point as 
the other ; but the character of the engage- 
ment was different, the troops firing at 
each other over breastworks of earth. 
This regiment did excellent service. 

The explosion of the mine was the signal 
for the opening of the artillenj of the 
entire line. The left division of General 
McPherson's Seventeenth or center corps 
opened first, and discharges were repeated 
along the left, through General Ord's 
Thirteenth corps and Herron's extreme 
left division, until the sound struck the 
ear like the mutterings of distant thunder. 
General Sherman, on the right, also opened 
his artillery about the same time and occu- 
pied the enemy's attention along his front. 
Every shell struck the parapet, and, bound- 



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560 



CAMPAIGI^ AGAINST VICKSBURG. 




Fourth of July, General Pemberton's reply 
was returned. He accepted the terms on 
condition that his troops should be per- 
mitted to march out with their colors and 
arms, stacking them outside of their works. 
To this, Grant made no objection. 

In his account of the grand closing 
scene in this momentous military transac- 
tion, Mr. Keim states that it was about 
one o'clock p. m., before matters had as- 
sumed such a state of completion as would 
admit of the entrance of the city by the 
union army. Tu General McPherso7i was 
accorded the honor of formally receiving 
the stipulated surrender. He met Pem- 
berton half a mile within the lines, where 
they were soon joined by Grant, and all, 
after a few minutes' parley, rode together 
into town. Upon arriving at the court- 
house, the troops were drawn up in line, 
facing the building, and the national en- 
'sign raised from its towering dome. This 
done, the ceremony of possession was com- 
pleted by the display of the flags of the 
Forty-fifth Illinois infantrj', and of the 
head-quarters of the Seventeenth corps. 
Upon the appearance of the flags, the 
troops joined in singing " B<dbj Hoimd 
the Flag," with tumultuous enthusiasm, 
and cheered vociferously — making the city 
ring and echo to its very suburbs. In 
consideration of the active part taken by 
the Seventeenth corps in the campaign 



which culminated in the capture of Vicks- 
burg, that command was designated by 
General Grant to take possession of the 
city. No sooner was the flag thrown to 
the breeze from the court-house, than the 
admiral's glass caught sight of its beauti- 
ful folds, and in due time his vessel 
steamed down to the cit}^, followed by all 
the gun-boats in the neighborhood, and 
took possession of a few feet of river front. 
All this was duly done, after the authority 
of the army of the United States was 
secured bej'ond doubt. 

Rarely if ever before was such a Fourth 
of July celebrated as this of 1863. The 
tidings of the victories of Gettysburg and 
Vicksburg mingled together, and in every 
part of the loyal north enthusiastic demon- 
strations of joj' were indulged in. On the 
fifteenth of July, President Lincoln issued 
a proclamation appointing August sixth as 
a day of national thanksgiving. 

The result of this memorable campaign 
and siege, as stated by General Grant, 
was, ' the defeat of the confederates in five 
battles outside of Vicksburg ; the occupa- 
tion of Jaikson, the capital of Mississippi ; 
a loss to the confederate army of thirty- 
seven thousand prisoners, among whom 
were fifteen general officers — and at least 
ten thousand killed and wounded, and 
among the killed Generals Tracy, Tilgh- 
man, and Green, and hundreds, perhaps 



CAMPAIGN AGAINST VICKSBUEG. 



5G1 



thousands, of stragglers, who can never be 
collected and reorganized. Arms and 
munitions of war for an army of sixty 
thousand men have fallen into our hands; 
besides a large amount of other public 
property, consisting of railroads, locomo- 
tives, cars, steam-boats, cotton, etc' The 
losses of the union army were about one 
thousand killed and a little more than 
seven thousand wounded — about one-half 
of them only slightly, and between five 
and six hundred missing. 

In all respects, the campaign resulting 
in the capture of Vicksburg was one of the 
most skillful in the annals of military 
strategy, and has justly been pronounced 
unequaled in brilliancy of conception and 
the masterly tact with which it was exe- 
cuted. One specially grand feature in the 
result was, that by silencing the confeder- 
ate batteries that had so long controlled 
the Mississippi, that most majestic river 
on the globe was again thrown open for 
the unrestricted commerce of the United 
States from Cairo to the Gulf — or, as 
President Lincoln expressed it, ' The 
Father of Waters again goes unvexed to 
the sea.' 

One of the most interesting chapters in 
the history of this campaign is that con- 
tained in a narrative of General Grant's 
interview with his friend Mr. Dubois, of 
Illinois, the facts of which, as given some 
time after in the public journals, were as 
follows : 

Early in April, 1863, Generals Grant, 
Sherman, and Oglesby, Secretary of State 
Hatch, and Auditor Jesse E. Dubois, of 
Illinois, with some others, were on board 
the flagship of Commodore Porter's squad- 
ron, the party having been up the Yazoo 
river to Haines's Bluff, on a reconnoisance 
of the fortifications. While the' other 
gentlemen were in the cabin, discussing 
public questions. General Grant and his 
friend Dubois withdrew, and being in 
company together on the deck, the follow- 
ing conversation, in substance, ensued. 
General Grant said — 

" Uncle Jesse, to tell you the truth, I 
have come to my wit's end as regards the 
3G 



capture of Vicksburg. I really do not 
know what next move to make. I have 
tried everything I could think of, and here 
we are yet. I have been advised that we 
go back to Memphis, and commence an 
overland march from that point." 

"General Grant, you cannot do that. 
If you take this army back to Memphis, 
with all this array of gun-boats and trans- 
ports and all your material of war, the 
effect will be disastrous on the countrj'. 
. . . . If you can do no better, you 
must storm Vicksburg. If it costs the 
lives of forty thousand men, it must be 
taken. It is a terrible thing to think of, 
but it must be done." 

General Grant replied that he would 
reflect upon the matter during the night, 
and let Mr. Dubois know of his determin- 
ation in the morning. When the morning 
came, General Grant said — 

"Uncle Jesse, j'ou are going home to- 
day ; tell Governor Yates and the people 
of Illinois for me, that I will take Vicks- 
burg in sixty days." 

" General Grant, I am glad to hear you 
say this ; but all I ask j-ou will allow me 
to tell them is, that you will take Vicks- 
burg, — I don't care whether in sixty days 
or six months." 

" / am bound to take it. I have decided 
on my plans. I will not tell you what 
they are. Even with the best intentions, 
you might disclose them to the detriment 
of the movement." 

They then parted, and General Grant 
detailed his plan to General Sherman, who 
protested in writing, but placed himself 
under the general's orders. 

Auditor Dubois went home and told 
Governor Yates that Grant would take 
Vicksburg; that he had no doubt of it; 
that General Grant told him to tell him 
so, and that he must tell it to the people 
as coming from General Grant. This 
promise of General Grant was published 
in the papers at the time, and Governor 
Yates repeated it from the stump. 

Not the least interesting incidents in 
connection with this matter, in view of tht* 
final result, are, the written protest by 



562 



CAMPAIGN AGAINST VICKSBURG. 



General Sherman against General Grant's 
circuitous march around Vicksburg, and 
by which he cut himself off from his base 
of supplies; General Sherman's direction 
that the protest be forwarded to Washing- 
ton, and General Grant's never so forward- 
ing it; and afterward, when Vicksburg 
was about to surrender, the tearing up of 
said protest, by General Grant, in General 
Sherman's presence, much to the satisfac- 
tion of the latter. 

A more humorous incident, and which 
will bear to be repeated, was that which 
transpired in the presence of President 



Lincoln, to whom complaint had been 
made that General Grant was in the r.abit 
of using intoxicating drinks to excess. 
" So I understand Grant drinks whiskey to 
excess ? " interrogatively remarked the 
president. " Yes," was the reply. " What 
whiskey does he drink?" inquired Mr. 
Lincoln. " What whiskey ? " doubtfully 
queried his hearers. " Yes. Is it Bour- 
bon or Monongahela ? " " Why do you 
ask, Mr. President ? " " Because, if it 
makes him win victories like this nt Vicks- 
burg, I will send a demijohn of tlie same 
kind to every general in the army." 



LXVIII. 

THREE DAYS' BATTLE BETWEEN THE CONCENTRATED 

ARMIES OF GENERALS MEADE AND LEE, AT 

GETTYSBURG, PA.— 1863. 



Overwhelminp: Invasion of Pennsylrania by the Confederate Forces. — The Union Army Drives Them 
with Great Slaugliter Across the Potomac. — Unsuccessful Attempt to Transfer the Seat of War trom 
Virginia to Northern Soil. — One of the Most Decisive and Important Federal Victories in the Greai 
American Civil Conflict. — Lee's Army Impatient to go North. — Order of March at Last. — Consterna- 
tion in the Border States. — Call for One Hundred Thousand More Men — Advance of Meade's Army. 
— Face to Face with the Foe. — Engagement Between the Vanguards. — Terrific Artillery Contests. — 
Movements and Counter Movements. — Severe Reverses on Both Sides. — Carnage at Cemetery 
Hill. — Longstreet's Furious Onset. — Most Destructive Cannonade. — Gettysburg a Vast Hospital. — 
Crawford's Grand Charge — Standing by the Batteries ! — Handto-Hand Conflict. — Following the 
Battle-Flag. — Deadly and Impetuous Fighting. — Forty-one Confederate Standards Taksu. — Uu- 
bounded Joy ot the Victors. — President Lincoln's Announcement. 



" this day hath made 

Much work fcrteara in manv a hiiplets mi.ther, 
>7boae sous lu scattered ou the bleedmt^ ground." 



EE'S vast and powerful sriny had long waited, with eager and restlesa 
expectation, for the order of march from their chieftain which should 
r , , enable them to transfer the seat of civil war 

_~^ ..I' from the familiar encampments and blood- 

stained battle-fields of Virginia to the soil of 
the North. The plans of the commanding 
general were in due time arranged with this 
end in view, and, about the middle of June, 
1863, he began to move his troops across the 
Potomac, and soon took possession of Hagers- 
town, Md., intending immediately to move 
thence, in full force, direct to Pennsylvania. 
Such a movement, on the part of the con- 
""--' ' federate army, so sudden and well executed, produced great consternation 
throughout the north. President Lincoln issued a call for one hundred thousand addi- 
tional men from the ioyal states nearest the theater of military operations ; and Gen- 
eral Meade, who had just succeeded General Hooker in command of the. army of the 
Potomac, lost no time in advancing his army northward, as far as Harrisburg, Pa., the 
place of destination of Lee's forces. The army of General Meade consisted of the fol- 
lowing corps : First, under command of General Eeynolds, and subsequently under 




MEADE'S HEAD-QUARTEHS. 



564 



BATTLE OF GETTYSBURG. 



General JDoubleday ; second, under Gen- 
eral Hancock ; third, under General Sick- 
les ; fifth, under General Sjkes ; sixth, 
under General Sedgwick ; eleventh, under 
General Howard ; twelfth, under General 
Slocum. Total number of men, sixty to 
eighty thousand, with two hundred guns. 
The army of General Lee consisted of 
General Hill's corps, General Longstreet's, 
and General Ewell's ; in all, about ninety 
thousand men, and two hundred guns. 

On the first of July, the advanced corps 
of the union army, led by Reynolds and 
Howard, engaged the confederate forces 
near Gettysburg. General Reynolds ap- 
proached the town from the south-east, the 
confederates evacuating it on his arrival. 
He passed through and out (says the 
account of a writer in the Philadelphia 
Age) on the west side toward Chambers- 
burg. He marched several miles, was met 
by the enemj' in stronger force, and after 
a slight contest was compelled to retire. 
The confederates pushed him very hard, 
and he came into the town on a run, his 
troops going along every available road, 
and rushing out on the east side, closely 
pursued. One of his brigades with a con- 
federate brigade on each side of it. All 
three were abreast, running as hard as 
they could, — the two outside ones pouring 
a heavy fire into the center, out of which 
men dropped, killed or wounded, at almost 
every footstep. This federal brigade, in 
running that terrible gauntlet, lost half its 
men. General Reynolds was killed, and 
Gettysburg was lost; but the federal 
troops succeeded in mounting the Ceme- 
tery Hill, and the confederates ceased pur- 
suing. At night, the latter encamped in 
the town, and the union troops on the 
hill. During Wednesday night and 
Thursday morning, the two armies were 
concentrating on the two ridges, which 
were to be the next day's line of battle, 
and by noon on Thursday each general 
had a force of eighty thousand men at his 
disposal. Then began the great artillerij 
contest, the infantry on both sides crouch- 
ing behind fences and trees and in rifle- 
pits. The federal soldiers ic the cemetery 



laid many of the tombstones on the ground 
to prevent injury, so that many escaped. 
There was but little infantry fighting on 
Thursday, and neither party made much im- 
pression on the other. The confederates in 
the other town erected barricades, and had 
their sharpshooters posted in every availa- 
ble spot, picking off federal soldiers on the 
hills to the north of the cemetery. The 
cannonade was fierce and incessant, and 
shells from both sides flew over and into 
the devoted town. Beyond killing and 
wounding, breaking trees and shattering 
houses, and making an awful noise, how- 
ever, this cannonade had but little effect 
on the result of the battle. Both sides 
fought with great ferocitj', and neither 
could drive the other out of position. 

On Thursday night, fearing that the 
enemy had flank parties which might turn 
his rear. General Meade had serious inten- 
tions of a change in his plan of movements, 
and he called a council of war. The ad- 
vice of some of his generals, however, and 
the caDture of a courier with dispatches 
from Richmond, from which it was learned 
that the confederates could receive no 
re-enforcements, made him decide not to 
alter his programme. On Friday morning. 
General Lee did not desire to make the 
attack. He saw the superiority of the 
federal position, and witched to entice them 
out of it and down into the valley. With 
this design in view, he withdrew all his 
sharpshooters and infantry from Gettys- 
burg. The deserted town lay there a very 
tempting bait, but General Meade's men 
hid quietly behind the fences and trees, 
and the banks upon the hills. They could 
look down into the streets and see every- 
thing that was in progress. They saw the 
confederates march out and retire to the 
seminary, but made no advance, and the 
confederates gained nothing by the move- 
ment. A parting salute of musketry, 
however, from a knoll north of the ceme- 
tery, accelerated the confederate retreat. 
For some time the town had scarcely a 
soldier in it. Scores of dead and wounded 
men and horses, with broken wagons, 
bricks, stones, timber, torn clothing, and 



BATTLE OF GETTYSBURG. 



565 



abandoned accoutrements, lay there. The 
frightened inliahitants peered out of their 
windows to see what the armies were doing 
to cause such a lull, and, almost afraid of 
their own shadows, they hastened away 
and crouched in corners and cellars at the 
sound of every shot or shell. 

Of the stirring scenes that so soon fol- 
lowed, the same correspondent says : Gen- 
eral Lee's evacuation, however, had no 
effect. Meade was neither to be enticed 
into the town nor into the vallej'. Enough 
dead bodies laj- in the fields and streets to 
give him warning of what happened to 
poor Reynolds two days before, and he 
wisely determined to stay where he was 
and let events shape themselves. The 
confederates soon became impatient. They 
could wait no longer; and after much 
solicitation from his subordinates, General 




Lee permitted General Longstreet to send 
his grand division on a charge upon the 
cemetery. The federal soldiers were on 
the alert. They were hid behind their 
embankments, some kneeling, and some 
flat on the ground. The confederate artil- 
lery opened. It was as fierce a cannonade 
as the one the day before, but instead of 
being spread all over the line, every shell 
was thrown at the cemetery. Experienced 
soldiers soon divined what was coming, 
and, m every portion of the federal line, 
the cannon were directed toward the valley 
in front of the cemetery. All were ready. 
Amidst the furious fire from the confeder- 



ate cannon scarcely a federal shot was 
heard. The artillerists, implements in 
hand, crouched in the little ditches dug 
behind their cannon. With arms loaded, 
the infantry awaited the charge. It soon 
came. Erom the woods of short, scrubby 
timber and the rocks near the seminary, 
there rose a yell. It was a long, loud, 
unre-iniUing, hideous screech, from thou- 
sands of voices. At the yell, the federal 
cannon opened. Soon the confederate col- 
umns emerged from the woods. They 
came on a rush down the hill, waving their 
arms and still screeching. They climbed 
the fences and rushed along, each one bent 
upon getting first into the cemetery. The 
cannon roared, and grape and canister and 
spherical case fell thick among them. 
Still they rushed onward, hundreds falling 
out of the line. They came within musket- 
shot of the federal troops. Then the small 
arms began to rattle. The confederates 
approached the outer line of works. They 
were laboring up the hill. As they 
mounted the low bank in front of the rifle- 
pits, the federal soldiers retreated out of 
the ditch behind, turning and firing as 
they went along. It was a hand-to-hand 
conflict. Every man fought for himself 
and by himself. Myriads of con!' derates 
pushed forward down the hill, across into 
the works, and up to the cemetery. All 
were shouting, and screaming, and swear- 
ing, clashing their arms and firing their 
pieces. The confederate shells flew over 
the field upon the federal artillerists on 
the hills above. These, almost disregard- 
ing the storm which raged around them, 
directed all their fire upon the surging 
columns of the enemy's charge. Every 
available cannon on Cemetery Hill, and to 
the right and left, threw its shells and 
shot in the valley. The fight was terrible ; 
but, despite every effort, the confederates 
pushed up the hill and across the second 
line of works. The fire became hotter. 
Tlie fight swayed back and forth. One 
moment the confederates would beat the 
railings of the cemetery; then a rush 
from the federal side would drive th-^m 
down into the vallev. Then, with one of 



566 



BATTLE OF GETTYSBURG. 



their horrid screeches, thej- would fiercely 
run up the hill again into the cemetery, 
and have a fierce battle among the tomb- 
stones. It was the hardest fight of the 
day, and hundreds were sl.ain tncre. Sev- 
eral attempts were made to take the place, 
but they were not successful, and late in 
the afternoon, leaving dead and v.ounded 
behind them, the confederate forces re- 
treated upon their own hill and into their 
woods again. They were not routed. 
They can scarcely be |fiid to have been 
driven. They made an attack and were 
repulsed, and, after renewed attempts, 
feeling that it was useless to try any more, 
they retreated. It was now General 
Meade's turn to make an attack. Though 
they had lost heavily they felt elated. 
They saw hopes of a victory, and were 
ready to do almost anything to secure it. 
Although there had been a battle in the 
valley below Gettysburg,-yet the town was 
as quiet and as much deserted as ever. 
Shells flew over it, and now and then one 
of its houses would have a wall cracked or 
a roof broken, but neither force possessed 
it. General Meade turned his attention 
there. 

The day was waning and the battle had 
lulled, .' I'.d Meade determined, if possible, 
to drive the confederates out of the semin- 
ary. This was done, according to the 
writer already quoted, as follows : His 
troops were placed in order, and charged 
down the hill and into the town. They 
ran along every street, chasing a few of 
the enemy still hid there, before them. 
They came out upon the west side, along 
the Emmettsburg and Chambersburg 
roads, and ascended the enem3''s hills 
amidst a storm of grape and shell. At 
the seminary the confederates were not 
very strong. They had weakened that 
portion of the line to make their attack 
further to the south upon the cemeterj'. 
Tliey had but few cannon; and though 
they resisted some time, they finally re- 
treated from the edge of the hill and a'ban- 
doned the seminary. The federal troops 
did not chase them. The land back of the 
semiaary was rather flat and cut up into 



grain fields, with here and there a patch 
of woods. The rifle-pits on the brow of 
the hill proved an effectual aid to the fed- 
eral soldiers in maintaining their ground ; 
and as they lay behind the bank, with the 
ditch in front, they could pick off the 
stragglers from the retreating enemy. 
There was but little serious fighting after 
that, and night put an end to Friday's 
struggle, the confederates having retired 
about a mile on the north, near the semin- 
ary, and half a mile on the south, at a 
little stream. During the night, the dead 
in the streets of Gettj-sburg were buried, 
and the wounded on all parts of the field 
were collected and carried to the rear. On 
the next morning. General Meade expected 
another attack ; but, instead of making it, 
the confederates retreated further, aban- 
doning their entire line of battle, and the 
pickets reported that they were intrench- 
ing at the foot of South Mountain. The 
federal army was terribly crippled and 
sadly in need of rest, and no advance was 
made, although pickets were thrown across 
the enemy's old line of battle, and toward 
the place where they were building in- 
trencliments. All the day was spent in 
feeding and resting the men. Gettysburg 
was turned into a vast hospital, and im- 
promptu ones were made at a dozen jilaces 
on the field. The rain came, too, and with 
it cool air and refreshment both from wind 
and rain. No one could tell what the con. 
federates were doing ; everj' picket reported 
that they were intrenching, and the night 
of the fourth of July closed upon the field, 
the federal army being in full possession. 

The gallant charge made bj- the division 
under Crawford's command, contributed 
very materially to saving the left of the 
federal army. The confederates had 
massed their troops on Crawford's left. 
The third corps, Sickles's, had been en- 
gaging the enemy, but were overpow- 
ered, and several guns had been lost. 
Two divisions, of the fifth corps, Sykes's, 
had been also engaged, but nothing could 
withstand the confederate pressure, and 
their troops gave way. Several thou- 
sand arms had been lost. On came the 



BATTLE OF GETTYSBUEa 



567 



-HoL' 




568 



BATTLE OF GETTYSBURG. 



confederates in a dark mass, across the 
wheat field, over the stone wall, and across 
the ravine. At this moment, while the 
fugitives were rushing through Crawford's 
ranks, he ordered a charge. He was 
drawn up in line of battle, and in column 
of division. His men, with loud cheers, 
ru.shed forward. Crawford himself rode to 
the front, and, seizing the flag of the lead- 
ing regiment, encouraged the men. They 
dashed in; volley after volley was poured 
into the < v .ifederate ranks. The federals 
got ahead, and drove the confederates back 
across the ravine, over the stone wall, and 
through the wheat field, retaking the 
unionists' ground and an immense quantity 
of arms. The left of the federal position 
was saved by this charge, enabling them 
to remain masters of the field. 

A fit illustration of the sanguinary char- 
acter of the afternoon struggle alreadj'' de- 
8cri bed, is that given by Mr. Whitelaw Keid, 
one of the gifted correspondents of the Cin- 
cinnati Gazette. Mr. Reid says that some 
Massachusetts batteries — Captain Bige- 
low's, Captain Phillips's, and two or three 
more under Captain McGilvry, of Maine 
— were planted on the extreme left, ad- 
vanced now well down to the Emraettsburg 
road, with infantry in their front, — the 
first division of Sickles's corps. A little 
after five, a fierce confederate charge drove 
back the infantry and menaced the batter- 
ies. Orders were sent to Bigelow on the 
extreme left, to liold his position at every 
\azard short of sheer annihilation, till a 
couple more batteries could be brought to 
his support. Reserving his fire a little, 
tiien with depressed guns opening with 
double charges of grape and canister, he 
smote and shattered, but could not break 
tile advancing line. His grape and canis- 
ter became exhausted, and still, closing 
frandly up over their slain, on they rushed. 
He fell back on spherical case, and poured 
this in at the .shortest range. On, still 
onward, came the artillery-defj'ing line, 
and still he held his position. They got 
within six paces of the guns — he fired 
n<Tain. Once more, and he blew devoted 
soldiers from their very muzzles. And, 



still mindful of that solemn order, he held 
his place ; they spring upon his carriages, 
and shoot his horses ! And then, his 
Yankee artillerists still about him, he 
seized the guns by hand, and from the 
very front of that line dragged two of them 
off. The caissons were farther back — five 
out of the six are saved. That single com- 
panj', in that half hour's fight, lost thirty- 
three of its men, including every sergeant 
it had, and the captain himself was 
wounded. Yet it was the first time it was 
ever under fire. So thej' fought along 
that fiery line ! The confederates now 
poured upon Phillips's battery, and it, too, 
was forced to drag off the pieces by hand 
when the horses were shot down. Prom a 
new position, it opened again ; and at last 
the two re-enforcing batteries came up on 
the gallop. An enfilading fire swept the 
confederate line ; Sickles's gallant infantry 
charged, the confederate line swept back 
on a refluent tide — the unionists regained 
their lost ground, and every gun they had 
just lost in this splendid fight. 

Mr. Reid, as an eje witness, character- 
i.^es the sanguinary struggle at four o'clock 
as the great, clespernfe, and final cliarge. 
The confederates seemed to have gathered 
up all their strength and desperation for 
one fierce, convulsive effort, that should 
sweep over and wash out all resistance. 
They swept up as before ; the flower of 
their armj' to the front — victory staked 
upon the issue. In some places, the}' lit- 
erally lifted up and pushed back the union 
lines ; but, that terrible ' position ' of the 
federals ! — wherever they entered it, enfi- 
lading fires from half a score of crests 
swept away their columns like merest 
chaff. Broken and hurled back, they 
easily became prisoners; and on the center 
and left, the last half hour brought more 
prisoners than all the rest. So it was 
along the whole line ; but it was on the 
second corps that the flower of the confed- 
erate army was concentrated ; it was there 
that the heaviest shock beat upon, and 
shook, and even sometimes crumbled, the 
federal line. The federals had some shal- 
low rifle-pits, with barricades of rails from 



BATTLE OF GETTYSBURG. 



6b9 



the fences. The confederate line, stretch- 
ing away miles to the left, in magnificent 
array, but strongest here, — Pickett's splen- 
did division of Longstreet's corps in front, 
the best of A. P. Hill's veterans in support 
— came steadily, and as it seemed resist- 
lessly, sweeping up. The federal skir- 
mishers retired slowly from the Emmetts- 
burg road, holding their ground tenaciously 
to the last. The confederates reserved 
their fire till they reached this same Em- 
mettsburg road, then opened with a ter- 
rific crash. From a hundred iron throats, 
meantime, their artillery had been thun- 
dering on the union barricades. Hancock 
was wounded ; Gibbon succeeded to the 
command — approved soldier, and ready for 



mere machine strength of their combined 
action — swept the confederates on. The 
federal thin line could fight, but it had not 
weight enough to oppose to this momen- 
tum. It was pushed behind the guns. 
Eight on came the confederates. They 
were upon the guns — ^were bayoneting the 
gunners — were waving their flags above 
the federal pieces. But they had pene- 
trated to the fatal point. A storm of 
grape and canister tore its way from man 
to man, and marked its track with corpses 
straight down their line ! They had ex- 
posed themselves to the enfilading fire of 
the guns on the western slope of Cemetery 
Hill ; that exposure sealed their fate. The 
line reeled back — disjointed already — in 





'\SsJVvr«JNoO 




the crisis. As the tempest of fire ap- 
Iiroached its height, he walked along the 
line, and renewed his orders to the men to 
reserve their fire. The confederates — 
three lines deep— came steadily up. They 
were in point-blank range. At last the 
order came! From thrice six thousand 
guns, there came a sheet of smoky flame, 
a crash, a rush of leaden death. The line 
literally melted away ; but there came the 
second, resistless still. It had been the 
unionists' supreme effort — on the instant, ( 
they were not equal to another. Up to 
the rifle-pits, across ttiem, over the barri- 
cades — the momentum of their charge, the 



an instar.t in fragments. The union 
troops were just behind the guns. They 
leaped forward upon the disordered mass; 
but there was little need for fighting now. 
A regiment threw down its arms, and, 
with colors at its head, rushed over and 
surrendered. All along the field, smaller 
detachments did the same. Webb's bri- 
gade brought in eight hundred; Gibbon's 
old division took fifteen stand of colors. 
Over the fields, the escaped fragments of 
the charging line fell back — the battle 
ther'3 was over. A single brigade, Har- 
row's, came out with fifty-four less ofiicers, 
and seven hundred and ninety-three less 



570 



BATTLE OF GETTYSBURG. 



men (the Seventh Michigan regiment was 
'.'f thia brigade,) than it took in. So the 
whole corps fought — so too they fought 
farther down the hne. It was fruitless 
sacrifice. They gathered up their broken 
fragments, formed their lines, and slowly 
marched away. It was not a rout, it was 
a bitter, crushing defeat. 

Among the individual instances of brav- 
ery narrated of this terrible combat be- 
tween the two great armies, that of Henry 
Shaler, of Indianapolis, will bear repeti- 
tion, for he seems to have more than 
equaled the self-told mythical performance 
of the Irishman who 'surrounded' a half- 
dizen of the enemy and bagged them 
plump. Shaler took more prisoners in 
this battle than any other man in the 
army — in all, twenty-five men, including 
one lieutenant and eighteen privates at 
one swoop. He took them by strategy of 
the most undoubted kind ; that is, he sur- 
rounded them, and they had to give up. 
On the morning of the fourth, he went out 
with his 'poncho' over his shoulders, so 
that the confederates couldn't see his coat, 
and thus they thought he was one of their 
own men. He went up and told them to 
la}' down their arms and come and help 
carry some wounded off the field ; they 
did so. When he got them away from 
their arms, he rode up to the lieutenant 
and told him to give up his sword. The 
lieutenant refused at first, but Shaler drew 
his revolver, and the lieutenant yielded 
without a snot, and the whole squad were 
then escorted by their gallant captor into 
camp. 

The heroism of General Kilpatrick — 
like that of Couch, Geary, Buford, Birney, 
Newton, Gregg, Mcintosh, Neil, and oth- 
ers — was conspicuous Irom first to last. 
On the thirteenth, some ten days after the 
close of the conflict, General Kilpatrick 
was anxious to make an advance, but 
could not obtain orders. Some of the 
Pennsylvania militia having been placed 
at his disposal, he thought he would try 
one regiment under fire. The Philadel- 
ohia Blues were selected, and, accompa- 
liied by the First Vermont cavalry, a dem- 



onstration was made on the right — the 
confederates then oecupying a fortified 
position. The militia were now deployed, 
the general desiring them to move to the 
crest of a knoll, where the bullets were 
flying pretty lively. There was some hes- 
itancy at first, whereupon a battle-flag pre- 
sented to the division by the ladies of 
Boonsboro' was sent to the front. Ser- 
geant Judj-, bearer of the flag, cried out — 

" This is General Kilj)atrich' s battle- 
flag ; jollow it • " 

The militia obeyed the summons 
promptly, and fell some distance in front 
of the line, and it was supposed for some 
time that the enemy had captured the flag; 
but at night, when Judy was brought in 
on a litter, he proudly waved the battle- 
flag. The novelty of being thus under 
fire for the first time was keenly felt by 
the militia. About the first man touched 
had the top of his head grazed just close 
enough to draw blood. He halted — threw 
down his musket — truly an astonished 
man ! One or two officers and a dozen or 
more privates r.in hurriedly to see what 
the matter was. Running both hands over 
his pate, and seeing blood, he exclaimed, 
"A ball 1 a ball !" — while the others stood 
on agape with astonishment, until the 
shrill voice of the general sounded in their 
ears : " Move on there ! " 

On the opening movement being made 
to baffle Lee's march toward Pennsylvar 
nia, the spirit which animated those who 
had gone forth in defense of the American 
Union — "man's last, best hope, of free 
government," — was conspicuously mani- 
fest. At a distance of fifteen miles from 
Gettysburg, where the armies were mass- 
ing, were first caught the murmurs of the 
opening battle, and from that time the 
scene was all enthusiasm among the weary, 
foot-sore federals, who counted as nothing 
all the pains of a march of nearly two hun- 
dred miles, now that tliey were within 
striking distance of the foe. Most of the 
way, the ambulance train had been crowded 
with both officers and men, weary, worn, 
and haggard ; but the cannon's rattle, a» 
it became more and more distinct, changed 



BATTLE OF GETTYSBURG. 



571 



them in a twinkling into new creatures. 
The New Jersey brigade, in Sedgwick's 
corps, was of this body. At about three 
o'clock on the afternoon of July 3d, the 
head of the column arrived on the battle- 
ground. As it came to a halt, a poor fel- 




SOLDIERS' KOSnMEST AT GETTYSBDEO. 

low, who looked the very image of death, 
hobbled out of the ambulance in which he 
had been Ij'ing, and, shouldering his 
musket, was just starting forward, when 
the surgeon stopped him with — 
" Where are you going, sir ? " 
" To the front, doctor," — and the brave 
fellow tried hard to stand firm and speak 
boldly as he saluted the surgeon. 

"To the front! What ! a man in your 
condition ? Why, sir, you can't march 



half a mile; you haven't the strength to 
carry yourself, let alone your knapsack, 
musket, and equipments. You must be 
crazy, surely-."' 

'■ But, doctor, my division are in the 
fight," (here he grasped the wheel of an 
ambulance to support himself,) "and I have 
a younger brother in my company. I 
must go." 

" But I am your surgeon, and I forbid 
you. You have every symptom of ty- 
phoid fever; a little over-exertion will kill 
you." 

"Well, doctor, if I must die, I would 
rather die in the field, than in an ambu- 
lance." 

The doctor saw it was useless to debate 
the point, and the soldier went as he de- 
sired. But on the evening of the next 
day he was buried where he fell — for fall 
he did — his right arm blown off at the 
elbow, and his forehead pierced by a minie 
ball. 

The impetuous bravery with which the 
confederate troops fought is illustrated by 
the fact that every brigadier in Pickett's di- 
vision was killed or wounded ; out of twen- 
tj'-four regimental officers, only two escaped 
unhurt ; the colonels of five Virginia reg- 
iments were killed; the ninth Virginia 
went in with two hundred and fifty men, 
and came out with only thirtj'-eight. 
These data show that the total casualties 
of the confederate army, though never 
officially jjublished, must have been im- 
mense — greater, probably, than those of 
the victorious. The latter, as given by 
General Meade, were as follows : two 
thousand and eight hundred and thirty- 
four killed ; thirteen thousand and seven 
hundred and nine wounded ; six thou- 
sand and six hundred and fortj'-three 
missing. The union army took forty- 
one standards, nearly twenty-five thou- 
sand small arms, and about fourteen 
thousand prisoners. 

So great was the joy throughout the 
loyal states, as the tidings of victor^' 
flashed across the wires, that, on the fore- 
noon of July 4th, President Lincoln sffi 
cially telegraphed as follows : 



672 



BATTLE OF GETTYSBURG. 



" The President announces to the coun- 
try that news from the Army of the Poto- 
mac, up to 10 P. M. of the 3d, is such as to 
cover that army with the highest honor ; 
to promise a great success to the cause of 
the Union, and to claim the condolence 



of all for the many gallant fallen ; and 
that for this he especially desires that 
on this day. He, whose will, not ours, 
should ever be done, be everywhere re- 
membered and reverenced with profound- 
est gratitude." 



LXIX. 

ORATORICAL CHAMPIONSHIP OF AMERICA'S CAUSE IN 
ENGLAND, BY REV. H. W. BEECHER.— 1863. 



His Olympian Speeches, in Defiance of British Sentiment, in the Great Cities of the Kingdom — His 
Eloquence Rises to the Very Crown of the Occasion. — Superb Exhibition of Forensic Power in Liv- 
erpool. — He Wrestles, Single- Handed and Triumphantly, for Three Hours, with a Vast and Tumul- 
tuous Mob in that City. — Reception at Exeter Hall, London. — Mr. Beecher's Tour Undertaken for His 
Health. — Reaches England, Homeward Bound. — Civil Conflict Raging in America. — Mr. Beecher 
Urged to Speak on United States Affairs. — Opening Speech in Manchester. — Great Audience of 
Seven Thousand. — Attempts to Silence Him. — Powerlessness of the Opposition — Splendid Qualities 
as an Orator — Discussions in Glasgow and Edinburgh. — Battle Waged by Mr. Beecher in Liverpool. 
— Violent Efforts to Gag Him. — A Maddened Sea of Insult. — Taunts, Curses, Hisses, Fury. — 
Stampings, Hootings, Yellings. — Beecher's Pluck, and Good Humor. — He Triumphs Over the Wild 
Tempest. —A Spectacle Never Before Witnessed. — Grand Closing Scene in the British Capital.— 
Vast and Excited Assembly.— He Carries the House by Storm.— Plaudits and Congratulations. 



"A more remorlcable embaEBV thmn any envoy who has represented us in Europe since Fnmklin pleaded the cause of the yonng Rcputi- 
c at the Court of Versailles."— TllK "ATLA.vnc MowiULV.' 



^ 



ECIDEDLY the most memorable oratorical success ever achieved by an Amer- 
ican citizen abroad, in behalf of the name and honor of his country, was that 
by the Rev. Henry Ward Beecher, in England 
during the great conflict of arms then raging in 
the United States. Leaving his great parish in 
the city of Brooklyn, N. Y., in the summer of 
1863, for a tour in Europe, with a view to the 
restoration of his health, it was not until October 
following, soon after reaching England, with his face set 
homeward, that he was prevailed upon to address a public 
audience, as the champion of the American Union, and de- 
fender of the national government. 

Beginning at Manchester, October 9th, Mr. Beecher de- 
livered five great speeches in the great cities of the king- 
dom—Manchester, Glasgow, Edinburgh, Liverpool, and 
London,— each speech being devoted to some special train of 
thought and argument bearing upon the issues involved in 
the momentous contest ; and the whole series, taken together, 
did more for the Union cause in Great Britain than all that 
had before been said or written. Possessing the faculty, 
beyond any other American orator, of combining close, 
x.ur.., powerful, i-ractical reasoning, with intense passion,— his mind 
always aglow with his subiect,-the effect of Mr. Beecher's speakmg 




574 CHAMPIONSHIP OF AMEPJCA'S CAUSE IN ENGLAND. 



is to kindle sympathj-, even if it does not 
flash conviction. It is this quality, ac- 
cording to the opinion of those who are 
best acquainted with Mr. Beecher's oratory, 
which, combined with liis marvelous power 
of illustration — marvelous alike for its 
intense vividness and unerring pertinency 
— and his great fiexibilitj-, whereby be 
adapts himself completely to the exigency 
of the instant, gives him a rare command 
over a popular assemblage. 

Free Trade Hall was the place selected 
for Mr. Beecher's appearance in Man- 
chester. Though capable of holding seven 
thousand persons, the hall was densely 
crowded, and the speaker received a wel- 
come such as, in point of enthusiasm, had 
rarely fell to the lot of any other man. 
On this occasion, he gave a history of that 
series of political movements, extending 
through half a century, the logical and 
inevitable end of which was open conflict 
between the two opposing forces of free- 
dom and slavery. There were in the 
meeting a few hundred opponents who 
frequently interrupted Mr. Beecher, but 
these checks only served to show how 
powerless was the opposition, and how 
forcible was the impression made by the 
speaker. His pointed remarks were fre- 
quently greeted with rounds of applause, 
and when, at the close of his address, he 
read a telegram just received from Liver- 
pool, that the " broad arrow " of the British 
government had that day been placed upon 
the suspected steam-rams in the Mersev, 
the enthusiasm reached its climax. The 
whole audience rose, vociferously cheering, 
and waving hats and handkerchiefs. 

Not to dwell upon the scenes character- 
izing Mr. Beecher's efforts in Glasgow 
and Edinburgh, it may be remarked that, 
in Liverpool, he waged such a battle with 
the vast and tumultuous throng assembled 
there to gag and stifle him, as, perhaps, 
no other public speaker in the world could 
have fought, in a strange land, and not 
been utterly vanquished. He here, in this 
great center of commercial and manufac- 
turing interests, labored to show how 
those interests are injured by slavery, — 



that the attemjjt to cover ths fairest por- 
tion of the earth with a slave population 
that buys nothing, and a degraded white 
population that buys next to nothing, 
should array against it the sympathy of 
every true political economist and every 
thoughtful and far-seeing manufacturer, as 
tending to strike at the vital want of com- 
merce, namely, not the want of cotton, but 
the want of customers. Amidst the most 
violent attempts to drown his voice and 
shut his lips, Mr. Beecher remained 
master of the platform, abundantly prov- 
ing to the mob the truth of his asser- 
tion, "I am born without moral fear. I 
have expressed my views in any audience, 
and it never cost me a struggle. I never 
could help doing it." So, too, in answer 
to the taunts and sarcasm of those who 
wished ill to the Union and looked with 
satisfaction upon the evidences of its ap- 
proaching dismemberment, came the dec- 
laration : 

" Standing by my cradle, standing by 
my hearth, standing by the altar of the 
church, standing by all the places that 
mark the name and memory of heroic men 
who poured their blood and lives for prin- 
ciple, I declare that in ten or twenty years 
of war we will sacrifice everything we 
have for princip)le. If the love of popular 
liberty is dead in Great Britain, you will 
not understand us ; but if the love of 
liberty lives as it once lived, and has 
worthy successors of those renowned men 
that were our ancestors as much as j'ours, 
and whose example and principles we 
inherit to make fruitful as so much seed- 
corn in a new and fertile land, then you 
will understand our firm, invincible deter- 
minations-deep as the sea, firm as the 
mountains, but calm as the heavens above 
us — to fight this war through at aU hazards 
and at every cost. " 

Throughout all the tumultuous demon- 
strations on the part of his Liverpool 
audience, his pluck and good humor never 
for a moment forsook him. His perfect 
self-possession, his readiness, his jovial 
wit, gave him the mastery in the fearful 
odds against which he had to battle. 



CHAMPIONSHIP OF AMERICA'S CAUSE IN ENGLAND. 575 



Another orator might have withered the 
mob with invective, but he conquered them 
with humor. He turned the laugh against 
them. He parried their blows, and at the 
same time struck home, so that the recoil 
made them wince in spite of their bravado. 
It was a grand spectacle, in St. George's 
Hall, Liverpool, when he struggled for 
nearly three livelong hours against that 
raging sea of insult, taunt, irony, imper- 
tinent questioning, blackguardism, curses, 
hisses, cat-calls, stampings, hootings, yell- 
ings — every possible manifestation of hate, 
every possible form of disorder ; but this 
strong-winged bird of the storm matched 
his might against it — now soaring up to 



In the course of this great and exciting 
discussion, the orator touched upon a point 
or question frequently asked and honestly 
entertained by those not acquainted with 
the structure of the American government. 
" It is said, ' Why not let the South go ? ' 
[Hear, hear, and cheers.] 'Since ihey 
won't be at peace with you. why do you 
not let them separate from you ? ' Because 
they would be less peaceable separated 
than they are together. [Hear, hear.] 
Oh, if the South only would go ! [Laugh- 
ter.] They are determined to stay — that 
is the trouble. [Hear, hear.] We would 
furnish free passage to every mother's son 
of them, if they would go. [Laughter.] 




llEIiClIER DEFENDING THE AMEKICAN UNION, IN EXETEI: UAI.L. I.i 'NI>ON. 



overcome it — now sinking down to under- 
mine it — now dashing in its teeth — now 
half-choked in the gust of its fury, but 
always moving onward, and in the end rid- 
ing triumphant on the very crest of its 
wildest billows. There was not a more 
heroic achievement on any field of battle 
during the Great American Conflict, than 
the successful delivery of Mr. Beecher's 
speech against the tempest of odds which 
opposed it. This is the testimony which 
the loyal American press universally bore 
to the value of Mr. Beecher's efforts in 
vindicating the national cause so courage- 
ously and a'oly. 



But we say, 'That territory is ours ! ^ 
[Cheers.] Let them go, and leave the 
nation its territorj'-, and they will have our 
unanimous consent. [Renewed cheers.] 
But I do not wish to discuss this even in 
in this ad captandiim way. I wish — 
because this seems to me the very marrow 
of the matter — I wish to ask 3'ou to stand 
in our place for a little time, and see this 
question as we see it, then afterwards 
make up your judgment as you think best. 
[Hear, hear.] And first, this war began 
by the act of the South — firing at that 
old flag that had covered both sections 
with glory and protection. [Applause.] 



576 



CHAMPIONSHIP OF AMERICA'S CAUSE IN ENGLAND. 



(Some gentleman on the platform here 
offered Mr. Beecher a glass of water.) 
No, thank you (said Mr. Beecher) ; I 
want neither water nor lozenges. [Laugh- 
ter.] Time, patience, and my own good 
lungs, will make me heard. I expect to 
be hoarse ; I am willing to be hoarse. I 
think that if I might but bring the mother 
and the daughter heart to heart and hand 
to hand [loud applause], I would be will- 
ing to be silent for a twelvemonth in so 
good a work as that. [Cheers.] The war 
began under circumstances that obliged 
the North to join issue in order to prevent 
actual humiliation and subjugation. . . 
. . And for the North to have lain down 
like a spaniel — to have given up the terri- 
tory that every child in America is taught, 
as every child in Britain is taught, to 
regard as his sacred right and his trust — 
to have given that territory ui> without a 
thought, without a blow, would have 
marked the North to all eternity as craven 
and mean beyond expression." [Loud 
cheers and some hisses.] 

Equally forcible and felicitous was the 
manner in which Mr. Beecher met his oppo- 
nents on another point. " But I hear,'' 
said Mr. Beecher, " a loud protest against 
war. [Hear, hear.] Ladies and gentle- 
men, Mr. Chairman : There is a small 
band in our country and in j'ours — I wish 
their number were quadrupled — who have 
borne a solemn and painful testimony 
against all wars, under all circumstances ; 
and although I differ with them on the 
subject of defensive warfare, yet when 
men that rebuked their own land, and all 
lands, now rebuke us, though I cannot 
accept their judgment, I bow with pro- 
found respect to their consistency. [Hear, 
hear, and cheers.] But excepting them, 
I regard this British horror of the Ameri- 
can war as something wonderful. [Ee- 
newed cheers and laughter.] Why, it is 
a phenomenon in itself ! On what shore 
has not the prow of your ships dashed ? 
[Hear, hear.] What land is there with a 
name and a people where your banner 
has not led your soldiers ? [Hear, 
hear.] And when the great resurrection 



reveille shall sound, it will muster British 
soldiers from every clime and people under 
the whole heaven. [Cheers.] Ah, but it 
is said this is a war against your own 
blood. [Hear, hear.] How long is it 
since you poured soldiers into Canada, and 
let all your yards work night and day to 
avenge the taking of two men out of the 
Trent? [Loud apfilause.] Old England 
shocked at a war of principle ! She gained 
her glories in suih a war. [Cheers.] 
Old England ashamed of a war of princi- 
ple ! Her national ensign symbolizes 
her history — the cross in a field of 
blood. [Cheers.] And will you tell us — 
who inherit your blood, your ideas, and 
your pluck [cheers] — that we must not 
fight?" [Cheers.] 

Exeter Hall, London, was the scene of 
Mr. Beecher's last and, perhaps, greatest 
oratorical effort, in defense of the Ameri- 
can Union — the undivided nationality of 
the American Republic. This speech was 
delivered under the auspices of the Eman- 
cipation Society, October 20th, and the 
meeting was one of the most enthusiastic 
ever held in the English metropolis. The 
admission was by tickets, the lowest 
charge for which was one shilling, and for 
the reserved seats, of which there were 
four hundred, the charge was two shillings 
and sixjjence. More than an hour before 
the time for the proceedings to commence, 
the main entrance in the Strand was 
besieged by crowds of persons anxious to 
obtain egress, and, soon after the doors 
were ojsened, the vast hall was filled to 
suffocation, and thousands were outside 
seeking but unable to obtain admission. 

Outside, the scene was of a most extraor- 
dinary description. The speech, as adver- 
tised, was to begin at seven o'clock, and it 
was announced that the doors would be 
opened at half-past six. The crowd, how- 
ever, began to assemble as early as five 
o'clock, and, before six, it became so dense 
and numerous, as completely to block up 
not only the footway but the carriage-way 
of the Strand, and the committee of man- 
agement determined, therefore, to throw 
open the doors at once. The rush that 



CHAMPIONSHIP OF AI\IEKICA'S CAUSE IN ENGLAND. 577 



took place was of the most tremendous 
character, and the hall, in every available 
part, became filled to overflowing, in a 
few minutes. But, notwithstanding this, 
no perceptible diminution was made in the 
crowd outside, and, at half-past six, there 
were thousands of well-dressed persons 
struggling to get in, despite the placards 
exhibited, announcing the hall to be 
"quite full." 

The policemen and hall-keepers were 
powerless to contend against this immense 
crowd, who ultimately filled the spacious 
corridors and staircases leading to the hall, 
still leaving a prodigious multitude both 
in the Strand and Burleigh street. At ten 
minutes before seven o'clock, Mr. Scott, 
the city chamberlain, and the chairman of 
the meeting, accompanied by a large body 
of the committee of the Emancipation 
Society, arrived, but were unable to make 
their way through the crowd, and a mes- 
senger vas dispatched to the Bow street 
police station, for an extra body of police. 
About thirty of the reserve men were 
immediately sent, and these, aided by the 
men already on duty, at last succeeded in 
forcing a passage for the chairman and his 
friends. Mr. Beecher at this time arrived, 
but was himself unable to gain admit- 
tance to the hall until a quarter of an hour 
after the time appointed for the commence- 
ment of his address. The reverend gen- 
tleman bore his detention in the crowd 
with great good humor, and was received 
with a perfect ovation, the crowd pressing 
forward in all directions to shake hands 
with him. He luns at last fairly carried 
into the hall on the shoulders of the police- 
men, and the doors of the hall were at 
once closed and guarded by a body of 
police, who distinctly announced that no 
more persons would be admitted, whether 
holding tickets or not. This had the effect 
of thinning to some extent the throng out- 
side, but thoiisands yet remained there, 
eager to seize any chance for admission 
that arose. 

At a quarter-past seven o'clock, a tre- 
mendous burst of cheering from within 
the building, plainly proclaimed that Mr. 
37 



Beecher had made his appearance on the 
platform. The cheering was taken up by 
the outsiders, and re-echoed again and 
again. The bulk of the crowd had now 
congregated in Burleigh street, which was 
completely filled, and loud cries were raised 
for some members of the emancipation 
committee to address them, but the call 
was not responded to. Several impromptu 
speakers, mounted upon the shoulders of 
some workingmen and addressed the peo- 
ple in favor of the policy of the federal 
government, their remarks being received 
with loud cheering from the large majority 
of those present. 

One or two speakers raised their voices 
in opposition to the views which had been 
advocated by Mr. Beecher, but they were 
speedily dislodged from their position by 
the mass of the crowd, whose sympathies 
were thus unmistakably exhibited. Every 
burst of cheering that resounded from 
within the hall was taken up and as 
heartily responded to by those outside. 
This scene continued without intermission, 
until the close of the meeting. When 
Mr. Beecher and his friends issued from 
the hall, they were again received with 
loud cheers ; and, a call being made for a 
cheer for Abraham Lincoln, a response 
went up from thousands of voices, like the 
noise of many waters, deep answering unto 
deep. A strong body of police were sta- 
tioned in the Strand and Burleigh street, 
but no breach of the peace occurred calling 
for their interference. 

In this London speech, Mr. Beecher 
gave a passing resume of his discussions 
of the American question during the last 
few weeks : At Manchester, he attempted 
to give the history of the external polit- 
ical movements for fifty years past, so far 
as was necessary to elucidate the fact that 
the war was only an overt form of the con- 
test between liberty and slavery which had 
been going on politically for half a cen- 
tury. At Glasgow, he undertook to show 
that the condition of work and labor ne- 
cessitated by any profitable system, of 
slavery was, that it brought labor into 
contempt, afiixing to it the badge of deg- 



578 



CHAMPIONSHIP OF AMERICA'S CAUSE IN ENGLAND. 



radation, and that the struggle to ex- 
tend servile labor across the American 
continent interested everj' free working- 
man on the face of the globe — the southern 
cause being the natural enemy of free 
labor and the laborer all over the world. 
In Edinburgh, he endeavored to sketch 
how, out of separate colonies and states, 
intensely jealous of their individual sover- 
eignty, there grew up a nation, and how 
in that nation of the United States there 
grew up two distinct and antagonistic 
systems of development, striving for the 
possession of government and for the con- 
trol of the national policy, in which the 
north gained the control, and that the 
south joined the Union simply and only 
because it believed the government would 
be in the hands of men who would give 
their whole influence against the cause of 
freedom. In Liverpool, he labored to 
show that slavery was, in the long run, 
hostile to commerce and manufactures all 
the world over, as it was to every other 
interest of human society ; that a slave 
nation must be a poor customer, bu3'ing 
the smallest quantity and the poorest 
goods, at the lowest profit, and that the 
interest of every manufacturing nation 
was to promote freedom, intelligence, and 
wealth, among all nations ; and that the 
attempt to cover the fairest portion of thf 
earth with a slave population which buys 
nothing, and a degraded white population 
which buys next to nothing, should array 
every political economist, every far-seeing 
manufacturer, against it, as striking at the 
vital interest of the manufacturer, not by 
want of cotton, but by want of customers. 
From beginning to ending, the orator's 
address was a clear, forcible, and thoroughly 
earnest exposition of the principles under- 
lying the great conflict, the course of 
policy that led to it, and the tremendous 
issues at stake in its decision. Many of 
the points specially dwelt upon — such as 
the legal position of slavery in the South 
under the constitution, as a state and not 
a Union question, a matter of local juris- 
diction, with which the national govern- 
ment had nothing to do — were presented 



by Mr. Beecher with such happy illustra- 
tions, accurate logic, and fervent zeal, as to 
render them more broadly intelligible to 
the popular mind than ever they had been 
made before, and showed the orator to be 
not only a practiced and powerful speaker, 
but remarkably skilled in the management 
of large audiences, so that, by a happy 
mixture of sterling sense, good humor, and 
downright earnestness, combined with a 
rare talent for effective retort, he suc- 
ceeded in carrying his entire audience, foes 
as well as friends, along with him. 

As an instance of the speaker's last 
named faculty, nothing could be more 
apposite than his plump and dexterous 
retort to an indignation cry from someone 
in the audience about the feting of the 
Kussian naval officers at New York", — Mr. 
Beecher's sarcasm at the attentions paid 
by the English to Mr. Mason, the southern 
commissioner, being in his best vein. "A 
gentleman asks me," said Mr. Beecher, 
"to say a word about the Russians. 
[Hear, hear.] Well, what about the 
Russians in New York harbor ? [Cheers.] 
The fact is, that that is a little piece of 
coquetry. Don't you know that when a 
woman thinks her suitor is not attentive 
enough, she picks out another, and ilirts 
with him in her lover's face ? Well, 
New York is in the same way flirting with 
Russia at this moment, but she has her 
eye on Russia, you may depend. [Hear.] 
When I hear men say, this is a piece of 
national folly, which is not becoming in a 
people reputed wise and under the solemn 
circumstances in which America is now 
placed ; when I hear it said, that while 
Russia is actually c::gaged in treading 
down the liberties of Poland — [Hear, 
hear,] — it is not even decent of a free 
country like the Northern States of Amer- 
ica to make believe to flirt with her 
—[Hear, hear, and " That is true,"]— 
well, I think so too, and now you know 
how we felt when you flirted with Mason 
at your Lord Mayoi^s banquet ! " 

Mr. Beecher's justification of the presi- 
dent's proclamation of emancipation, as at 
once a war necessity and a philanthropic 



CHAMPIONSHIP OF AMERICA'S CAUSE IN ENGL.iND. 579 



act, told -with arlmirable effect upon his 
hearers. He said : " The great conflict 
between the north and tlie south when we 
began this war was, which should control 
the government of the territories — slave 
institutions, or free institutions. That 
was the conflict. It was not emancipation 
or no emancipation — the government had 
no business with the question. The only 
thing the government could join issue on 
was, shall the national policy be free or 
slave. ... It was for this the north 
went to war. It produced emancipation ; 
but she went to war to save national insti- 
tutions, to save territories, to save those 
laws wliich, if allowed to act through a 
series of years, would infallibly first cir- 
cumscribe, then suffocate, and finally de- 
stroy slavery. This is the reason why 




Mn. BEECHER'S church, BROOKLYN, NEW YORK, 

that truly honest, just, and conscientious 
magistrate, Mr. Lincoln — [the remainder 
of the sentence was lost amid tumultuous 
cheering, the people rising and waving 
their hats]. How did the matter pass to 
a conflict with the soutli, in place of a 
direct attack upon the institution of 
slavery itself ? Because, in an ill advised 
hour, according to the foreshadowing of the 
wisest men of tlie south, tbey mixed the 
national government and national life with 
the institution of slavery, and obliged the 
people and obliged the president, who was 
under oath to defend the constitution and 
the national government, to take tlieir 
choice between the safety of the life of tlie 
government itself and slavery. We were 



content to wait the issue, as one of policy^ 
but when they threw drown the gauntlet, 
and said that slavery shall be established 
and extended, we could not do any other- 
wise than accept the challenge. [Cheers.] 
The police have no right to interfere with 
you so long as you keep the law, but when 
you violate the law they have a right. 
And so in constitutional government, it 
has no right to attack slavery when slavery 
is merely a state institution ; but when 
that state institution comes out of its own 
limits and attacks other states, it becomes 
a national enemy. [Cheers.] But it is 
said the president issued his proclamation 
for political effect, and not from humanity. 
[Hear, hear.] Why, the act of issuing 
the proclamation was political, but the 
disposition to do it was not. [Cheers.] 
Mr. Lincoln is an oflicer of the state, and 
in the presidential chair has no more right 
to follow his private feelings, than any 
one of your judges has a right to follow his 
private feelings on the bench. A judge is 
bound to administer the law, but when he 
sees that a rigid administration of the law 
goes with purity of justice, with human- 
ity, and with pity, he is all the more glad, 
because his private feelings go with his 
public duties." 

But the most striking and important 
parts of Mr. Beecher's address were his 
noble and earnest efforts to promote, to the 
utmost of his ability, that supreme inter- 
national object of his oratorical efforts — a 
good understanding between England and 
America, in which all the higher interests 
of civilization, freedom, and progress, are 
so directly involved. In discussing this 
great and vital question, he rose to a pitch 
of moral enthusiasm and elevation which 
— stranger, as he was, in the midst of his 
country's reputed enemies, and standing, 
as he did, the solitary spokesman for that 
country, in the presence of a surging and 
excited multitude — presented a spectacle 
of moral and forensic sublimity, rarely 
witnessed in any country. 

As the sequel of his series of public 
addresses in the various cities of the king- 
dom, this at London completed the dis- 



580 



CHAMPIONSHIP OF AMEEICA'S CAUSE IN ENGLAND. 



cuBsion of the whole round of points in 
American affairs which the British found 
it most difficult to understand. That the 
address excited a prodigious degree of 
attention in Great Britain was evident on 
all sides. Its great effectiveness con- 
sisted in its heing an American's present- 
ation of the American question, and never 
before did an orator make such triumph- 
ant use of his opportunity. There had 
been symptoms of an attempt to pack the 
meeting — if possible to fill the hall with 
an opposition which should prevent a 
hearing for the speaker, or at least disturb 



him by unmannerly interruptions as at 
Liverpool. To this end, the walls of the 
city were placarded with enormous posters, 
designed to excite ill feeling against Mr. 
Beecher, and hand-bills of a similar char- 
acter were distributed to all who entered 
the hall. But all such effort to disparage 
the speaker with his audience was entirely 
overwhelmed, chiefly by the hearty enthu- 
siasm with which he was greeted by tho 
great majority, while his good nature, fine 
tact, resoluteness, and easj' address, quite 
conquered the remaining malcontents and 
reduced them to silence. 



LXX. 

COMBAT BETWEEN THE ALABAMA, CAPTAIN SEMMES, 
AND THE KEARSARGE, CAPTAIN WINSLOW, 
OFF CHERBOURG.— 1864. 



The Alabama is Sunk after an Hour's Engagement, in Sight of the Two Great Maritime Powers of 
Europe — Semmes Tlirows His Sword Away, Jumps Overboard, and Escapes. — Relative Equality, in 
Size and Armament, of the Two Vessels —The Previous Destructive Career of tlie Alabama against 
Northern Commerce —Causeless Raid on Marine Property.— Fault in the Law of Nations.— British 
Origin of the Alabama — Her Unmistakable Character. — Peculiar Model and Equipment — Adapted 
to Destroy, Fight, or Run. — Adroit Shipment of Stores and Guns. — Ready for a Start.— All Hands 
Mustered Aft. — Semmes Reads Aloud His Commission. — Cheers for Davis, Semmes, etc. — Salute 
Fired : Hoisting the Flag. — A Long Cruise : Terrible Ravages. — Puts in, at Cherbourg, France. — 
The United States Ship Kearsarge on His Track. — Semmes Boldly Offers to Fight. — Preliminary 
Maneuvers of the Ships — Seven Circles Round Each Other. — Semmes's Rapid and Furious Fire. — 
Superior Gunnery of the Kearsarge. — Its Fatal Effect on the Alabama. — Incidents of this Renowned 
Fight. 



*' sink, bum, and destroy everything which flies the ensign of (he so-called United B'.ites."— Semme3'3 Coumiss'on Fnoil Jeffeesoh 
Pavis. 



iUSTICE, reason, and law, -will eventually unite, in 
all the states of Christendom, in exempting the 
merchant vessels of belligerent nations, engaged in 
the transport of goods on the high seas, not contra- 
band of war, from capture by privateers. Had this 
wise and equitable principle prevailed during the 
four years of the American Civil Conflict, the 
commerce of the United States would not have been 
-wept from the ocean by a few predatory cruisers 
like the Sumter, the Florida, the Georgia, and 
chief of all the Alabama, the latter commanded by 
^^gr^^^^B^^M^^^^Ci;^ Captain Eaphael Semmes, formerly an officer of 
S^E^SiLD^iSSfiHElLABASl. the United States navy, and a man of acknowledged 
professional abilities. No feature in the devastations which accompanied that sanguin- 
ary conflict appears now, at this remote view of the period when it occurred, more 
causeless and deplorable than this indiscriminate destruction of merchant shipping, the 
hapless crews of which were composed largely of natives of other countries, and there- 
fore in no wise involved in or responsible for the war. 

On this account, the devastations of the Alabama— so famous for its successful career 
as " the scourge of the seas," as well as for the grave complications between England 
and America to which her career subsequently gave rise, and especially for the sum- 




582 



COMBAT BETWEEN THE ALABAMA AND KEAESARGE. 



mary doom which at last overtook her in 
an engagement with the United States 
gun-boat Kearsarge, commanded by Capt. 
John A. Winslow, U. S. N., will here 
form the subject of a few pages. The 
engagement which at last sealed her doom, 
took place Sunday forenoon, June 19, 
1864, off Cherbourg, in the English chan- 
nel, in plain sight of the two great mari- 
time poivers of Europe. 

Originally known as the "290," this 
vessel was built by Mr. Laird, the eminent 
ship-builder, at Liverpool, or Birkenhead, 
and presented the following peculiarities 
in her make, appointments, and manage- 
ment : Of about twelve hundred tons bur- 
den ; draught some fourteen feet ; engines 
by Laird and Sons, Birkenhead, 1862. She 
was a wooden vessel, propelled by a screw, 
copper bottom, two hundred and ten feet 
length on water-line, rather narrow, painted 
black outside and drab inside ; had a round 
stern, billet head, very little shear, flush 
deck fore and aft; a bridge forward of the 
smoke-stack carried two large black boats 
on cranes amidships forward of the main 
rigging; two black quarter-boats between 
the main and mizzen masts, one small 
black boat over the stern, on cranes ; the 
spare spars, on a gallows between the 
bridge and foremast, showed above the 
rail. 

In respect to armament, she carried three 
long thirty-two pounders on a side, and 
was pierced for two more amidships ; had 
a one hundred pound rifled pivot gun for- 
ward of the bridge, and a sixty-eight pound 
pivot on the main deck ; also, a pivot bow- 
gun, and a pivot stern chaser. This was 
her armament when she began her career, 
her guns being of the well-known Blakely 
pattern, manufactured in Liverpool, in 
1862. 

She was bark-rigged ; had very long, 
bright lower masts, and black mast-heads ; 
yards black, long yard-arms, short poles — 
about one to two feet — with small dog- 
vanes on each, and a pendant to the main ; 
studding-sail booms on the fore and main, 
and wire rigging. Carried on her fore- 
mast a square foresail ; large try-sail with 



two reefs, and a bonnet top-sail with two 
reefs, top-gallant sail and royal. On the 
mizzen-mast a very large spanker and a 
short three-cornered gaff top-sail ; a fore 
and foretop-mast stay-sail and jib; no 
stay-sail to the main or mizzen mast bent 
or royal yards aloft On the mainmast a 
large try-sail with two reefs and a bonnet. 
No square main-sail bent, top-sail two 
reefs, top-gallant sail and royal. 

Of her appearance and management at 
sea, she was rated, in respect to speed, at 
thirteen knots under canvas and fifteen 
under steam ; could get steam in twenty 
minutes, but seldom used it except in a 
chase or emergency. Had all national 
flags, but usually set the St. George's 
cross on approaching a vessel. Her com- 
plement of men varied from one hundred 
to considerably more than that number. 
A man was kept at the mast-head from 
daylight until sunset. Her sails were of 
hemp canvas, made very roaching; the 
top-sails had twenty cloths on the head 
and thirty on the foot. The general 
appearance of the hull and sails was de- 
cidedly English. She was genei-ally un- 
der two top-sails, fore and main try-sails ; 
fore and foretop-mast stay-sails; some- 
times top-gallant sails and jib, but seldom 
any sails on the mizzen except while in 
charge of a vessel. She was very slow in 
stays; generally wore ship. Being built 
expressly for a privateer, she was adapted, 
in all respects, to destroy, fight, or run, 
according as the character of her opponent 
might bo. 

She left Birkenhead, towards the end of 
July, ostensibly on a trial trip, having on 
board a large party of ladies and gentle- 
men. On getting out of the Mersey, this 
party was sent back in a tug-boat, and the 
290, as had been previously arranged, 
neglected to return co Birkenhead, but 
steamed direct for the island in the Atlan- 
tic where she was to take in her guns, 
ammunition, etc. 

On leaving England, the privateer had 
a crew of ninety-three men, for the most 
part belonging to the English naval re- 
serve, all being trained gunners, and the 



COMBAT BETWEEN THE ALABAMA AND KEARSARGE. 5«3 



majority old men-of-war's men. She was 
temporarily commanded by Captain Bul- 
lock, who had under him the proper com- 
plement of commissioned and petty officers. 
Captain Bullock having learned that the 
Tuscarora, a United States war vessel, lay 
in wait for him in St. George's channel, 
took his departure by what is known as 
the north channel, thus eluding pursuit; 
though, even had he been intercepted, the 
Tuscarora would have found herself in a 
dilemma, as the escaped vessel had a set 
of English papers, and other presumptive 
proofs of her neutrality, in the face of 
which, interference might have been diffi- 
cult. At this time, she carried no guns, 
nor any warlike stores, but consisted 




^^W2^,^>i^ 



merely of the hull, spars, and engines, with 
sufficient coal and other requisites to ena- 
ble her to reach her destination, which was 
Tarissa, one of the Azores, or Western 
Islands, belonging to Portugal. This des- 
tination the vessel duly reached, after a 
favorable run of eight d.ays, nothing of any 
moment having occurred to break the usual 
monotony of a sea voyage. 

Some time before her departure from 
the Mersey, a large bark left the Thames, 
— cle.ariug for Demerara, West Indies, — 
to meet the privateer at Tarissa, and there 
transfer to the latter vessel the guns and 
stores destined for her, and which formed 
the cargo of the bark. Some reason re- 
quired to be assigned to the Portuguese 
authorities for the 290 having anchored in 



this way, in their bay, and accordingly the 
excuse furnished them was that her en- 
gines had broken down. This plea was 
accepted as valid, and, during the week 
that intervened betwixt the arrival at 
Tarissa of the privateer and the bark, the 
crew of the former vessel were engaged 
ostensibly in repairing her engines, but 
really in preparing her to receive her guns, 
etc. About the lapse of a week from the 
arrival of the 290, the bark above men- 
tioned sailed in and anchored, her captain 
alleging as a reason to the Portuguese offi- 
cials that his vessel had sprung a leak, 
which would require to be repaired ere she 
could resume her voyage ; and on this 
understanding, the Portuguese at once 
placed her in quarantine, which in 
the Azores lasts three days. 

On the day after the bark's arrival, 
Captain Bullock, being anxious to 
get his guns on board, hauled along- 
side of the bark, and erected a pair 
of large shears to effect the transfer 
of hor cargo from the bark's hold to 
the privateer's deck. This brought 
off the Portuguese in a fury, that their 
rules should have been broken by the 
290 having dared to communicate 
with a vessel that had still quarantine 
time to run, and they angrily de^ 
manded to know the reason why 
their regulations had been infringed. 
They were told that the bark was in a 
sinking state, and the erection of the 
shears was accounted for by urging the 
necessity of an immediate transfer, tempo- 
rarily, of her cargo, that the leak might 
be reached and stopped ; and Captain Bul- 
lock finally succeeded in bearing down all 
opposition by feigning to get into a pas- 
sion, saj'ing that he was doing no more for 
the bark than any Englishman would do 
for another in distress. The Portuguese 
were content to leave the vessel, and the 
transhipment proceeded without further 
hindrance from those on shore. 

About the afternoon of the second day, 
and when the transfer was nearly complete, 
the British screw-steamer Bahama came 
in, having on board Captain Semmes and 



584 



COMBAT BETWEEN THE ALABAMA AND KEARSAEGE. 



other late officers of tlie privateer Sumter 
(cut short in her career), besides the re- 
mainder of the 290's armament, and an 
addition of twenty or more men to her 
crew. On the Baliama's arrival and an- 
chorage, on a somewhat similar pretext to 
those given by her two predecessors, the 
Portuguese apparently lost all patience, 
and peremptorily insisted on the instant de- 
parture of all three vessels. The Bahama 
at once communicated with the 290, and 
liaving handed over to the latter everything 
destined for her, got up steam and left, 
followed by the 290, towing the now empty 
bark. 

All three went, not to sea, as they had 
been ordered to do, but to Angra Bay — a 
bay in the same island, and only a few 
leagues distant from Tarissa Eoads. Here 
they remained unmolested until noon of 
the following day, Sunday, when, for the 
second time, all three vessels were ordered 
out of Portuguese waters. All the 290's 
guns being now mounted, and the vess(J 
otherwise ready for a cruise, the order was 
obeyed, and all took their departure, the 
bark as before in tow of the 290, which, 
having convoyed her well out to sea, cast 
her off, and, witli a favoring breeze, she 
steered for Cardiff, to bring out a further 
supply of coal for the 290's future use. 

The privateer and the Bahama now 
steamed around the island, and Captain 
Semmes, coming out of his cabin, ordered 
his first lieutenant to muster the crew aft. 
This having been done, and all the officers 
assembled on the poop in their full uni- 
form, namely, the confederate gray frock- 
coat and trousers. Captain Semmes en- 
joined silence, and read his commission as 
post-captain in the confederate navy. It 
was a document duly attested at Rich- 
mond, and bore the signature of " Jeff 
Davis, President Confederate States of 
America." He then opened and read liis 
sealed orders from Mr. Davis, directing 
him to assume command of the confederate 
sloop-of-war Alabama, hitherto known as 
the 290, in which, having been dulj' com- 
missioned, he was to hoist the confederate 
jiisi^a and pennant, and " si7ik, burn, aJid 



destroy everything which flew the ensign 
of the so-called United States of America." 

Captain Semmes then ordered the first 
lieutenant to fire a gun and run up the 
confederate flag and pennant. The gun 
was fired hy the second lieutenant, and, 
ere its smoke had cleared awaj', the stars 
and bars of the southern confederacy were 
floating on the breeze, and the ceremony 
was complete, — Semmes declaring tlie 
vessel, henceforth to be known as the Ala- 
bama, to have been duly commissioned. 

The next step was formallj' to engage 
the crew to serve and fight under the 
southern flag, which having been done, the 
men were addressed by their captain in a 
stirring speech, in the course of which he 
said there were only four vessels in the 
United States navy that were more than a 
match for the Alabama; but, he added, in 
an English-built heart of oak as the Ala- 
bama was, and surrounded as he then saw 
himself by British hearts of oak, he 
wouldn't strike his newly-hoisted flag for 
any one of tlie four. This elicited a hearty 
burst of applause for Davis, the confeder- 
acy, and Semmes, and, when it had sub- 
sided, the captain said that the Bahama 
was on the point of leaving for England, 
and intimated that if any of his crew 
reiieiited of the step they had taken, they 
were free to return in her. This alterna- 
tive none would accept, and Captain Bul- 
lock and a few of the otlier officers who 
had taken the 290 from Fngland to the 
Azores finding their occupation gone, 
through the arrival of those who had held 
similar appointments in the Sumter, hav- 
ing gone on board the Bahama, that vessel 
and the Alabama, amid heartj- cheering 
from the crews of both, parted company, 
the former pursuing her course back to 
England, and the latter making chase for 
an American whaler, which she soon cap- 
tured and burned. 

Tliis u-as the first prize taken by 
Semmes, in that long and successful career 
in the South Atlantic and Indian oceans, 
during wliich he inflicted almost untold 
damage upon the merchant marine service 
of the United States, and successfully 



COMBAT BETWEEN THE ALABAMA AND KEAESAEGE. 585 



eluding the most diligent pursuit and the 
best-laid plans of capture. 

Nor is it possible to conjecture how 
much longer this prosperous career of the 
Alabama would have continued, but for the 
fortuitous circumstance which suddenly 
arose, and which as suddenly terminated 
in her comnlete destruction. 

Making good her escape from the United 
States naval vessels at the Cape of Good 
Hope and Straits of Sunda, and after com- 
mitting sundry devastations, the Alabama 
returned westward, in June, 1864, and 
took refuge under tlie guns of Fort Du 
Eomet, off Cherbourg, a Frenc-li port. At 
the same time, the United States gun-boat 
Kearsarge, Captain Winslow, was lying at 




Flushing, Holland, when a telegram came 
from Mr. Dayton, the American ambassa- 
dor at Paris, stating that the Alabama was 
at Cherbourg. The Kearsarge immedi- 
ately put to sea, and arrived at Cherbourg 
in quick time, taking the Alabama quite 
by surprise by so sudden an appearance on 
her track. Through the consular agent, a 
sort of challenge was received by Captain 
Winslow from Captain Semmes, the latter 
stating that he would like to measure the 
strength of his vessel with that of the 
Kearsarge, — that if the latter remained 
off the port he would come out and fight 
her, — and that he would not detain the 
vessel long. 

After cruising off the pen for five 



days, until Sunday, June 19th, at about 
half-past ten o'clock, in the forenoon. Cap- 
tain Winslow descried the starry ensign 
of the Alabama floating in the breeze, as 
she came boldly out of the western en- 
trance, accompanied by the French iron- 
clad steamer Couronne and the English 
yacht Deerhound, the latter having on 
board its owner, Mr. Lancaster — a member 
of the Eoyal Yacht Club — together with 
his wife and family. The Couronne re- 
tired into port, after seeing the combatants 
outside of French waters. Captain Wins- 
low had previously had an interview with 
the admiral of Cherbourg, assuring him 
that, in the event of an action occurring 
with the Alabama, the position of the 
vessels should be so far off shore that no 
question would be advanced about the line 
of jurisdiction. When the Alabama was 
first descried, the Kearsarge was about 
three miles from the entrance of the har- 
bor, and, to make certain that none of the 
maneuvers of battle took place within the 
French waters, as well as to draw the Ala- 
bama so far off that, if disabled, she could 
not flee in to the shore for protection from 
her French allies or sj-mpathizers, the 
Kearsarge stood to seaward until she had 
attained the distance of about seven miles 
from the shore. 

At ten minutes before eleven, the Kear- 
sarge came quick about and approached 
the Alabama. When within about three- 
quarters of a mile, the Alabama opened 
her guns with her starboard broadside. 
The Kearsarge made no reply for some 
minutes, but ranged up nearer, and then 
opened her starboard batter}', fighting six 
guns, and leaving only one thirty-two 
pounder idle. The Alabama fought seven 
guns, working them with the greatest 
rapidity, sending shot and shell in a con- 
stant stream over her adversary. Both 
vessels used their starboard batteries, the 
two being maneuvered in a circle about 
each other at a distance of from five hun- 
dred to one thousand yards. Seven com- 
plete circles were made during the action, 
which lasted a little over one hour. At 
the last of the action, when the Alabama 



586 COMBAT BETWEEN THE ALABAMA AND KEAESARGE. 



would have made off, she was near five 
miles from the shore ; and, had the action 
continued from the first in parallel lines, 
with her head in shore, the line of juris- 
diction would, no doubt, have been reached. 

From the first, the firing of the Ala- 
bama was rapid and wild ; toward the 
close of the action, the firing became bet- 
ter. The Kearsarge gunners, who had 
been cautioned against firing rapidly, with- 
out direct aim, were much more deliberate ; 
and the instructions given to point the 
heavy guns below rather than above the 
water-line, and clear the deck with lighter 
ones, was fully observed. 

Captain Winslow had endeavored, with 
a port helm, to close in with the Alabama; 
but it was not until just before the close 
of the action, that he was in position to 
use grape. This was avoided, however, by 
the Alabama's surrender. The effect of 
the training of the Kearsarge's men ■was 
evident; nearly every shot from their 
guns told fearfully on the Alabama, and on 
the seventh rotation in the circular trade, 
she winded, setting fore-trysail and two 
jibs, with head in shore. Her speed was 
now retarded, and by winding her port 
broadside was presented to the Kearsarge, 
with only two guns bearing, not having 
been able to shift over but one. Captain 
Winslow now saw that she was at his 
mercy, and a few more guns brought down 
her flag, though it was difficult to ascer- 
tain whether it had been hauled down or 
shot away ; but a white flag having been 
displayed over the stern, the fire of the 
Kearsarge was reserved. 

Two minutes had not more than elapsed 
before the Alabama again opened firo on 
the Kearsarge, with the two guns on the 
port side. This drew Captain Winslow's 
fire again, and the Kearsarge was immedi- 
ately steamed ahead and laid across her 
bows for raking. The white flag was still 
flying, and the Kearsarge's fire was again 
reserved. Shortly after this, her boats 
were to be seen lowering, and an officer in 
one of them came alongside and stated that 
the ship had surrendered, and was fast 
sinking. In twenty minutes from this 



time the Alabama went down, her main- 
mast, which had been shot, breaking near 
the head as she sank, and her bow rising 
high out of the water, as her stern rapidly 
settled. 

At precisely twenty-four minutes past 
twelve, twenty minutes after her furnace 
fires went out, the Alabama being on the 
point of making her final plunge, the word 
went forth for every man to take care of 
himself, which they did by jumping over- 
board, Semmes throwing his sword into thfi 
ocean and then taking a swim himself, 
making for the Deerhound, which rescued 
him and thirteen other officers. None of 
the men who had been killed were left to 
sink; of the twenty-one wounded, some 
were in the quarter-boats with the boys, 
and others on board the Kearsarge ; the 
rest of the crew were all afloat, and some 
of them drowning. Every available boat 
of both vessels was now emploj'ed in their 
rescue ; and besides these, the Deerhound 
and a French pilot-boat shared in this 
humane service. In this way, one hun- 
dred and nineteen were saved, the greater 
number by the boats of the Kearsarge. 
Semmos's three waist-boats had been torn 
to shreds in the fight, and he had left only 
two quarter-boats ; these w-ere filled with 
tlu wounded and with boys unable to 
swim. 

The chances of this conflict, estimated 
from the relative strength and speed of 
the two vessels, were nearly equally' bal- 
anced. Thus, the length over all, of the 
Alabama, was two hundred and twenty 
feet, and of the Kearsarge, two hundred 
and fourteen ; the Alabama's lengtli on 
water-line, two hundred and ten feet, and 
of the Kearsarge, one hundred and ninety- 
eight ; the Alabama's beam was thirty-two 
feet, being one less than the Kearsarge's ; 
depth of the Alabama, seventeen feet, or 
one more than the Kearsarge ; the two 
engines of the Alabama were of three hun- 
dred horse-power each, while the horse- 
power of the Kearsarge was four hundred. 
Tonnage of the Alabama, eleven hundrej 
and fifty ; of the Kearsarge, one thousand 
and thirty. 



CO:\rBAT BETWEEN THE ALABAMA AND KEAESAKGE. 



587 



Tha complete armament of the Alabama 
consisted of one seven-inch Blakely rifle, 
one eight-^ncli smooth bore sixty-eiglit 
pounder, and six thirty-two pounders. 
The armament of the Kearsarge consisted 
of two eleven-inch smooth bore guns, one 
thirty-pounder rifle, and four thirty-two 
j)0unders. In the combat, the Kearsarge 
lised but five guns; the Alabama, seven. 
The Kearsarge had one hundred and sixty- 



from the Alabama struck these chains, and 
fell harmlessly into the water. The Ala- 
bama, it was estimated, discharged three 
hundi'ed and seventy or more shot and 
shell, but inflicted no serious damage on 
the Kearsarge ; some thirteen or fourteen 
took effect in and about the hull, and six- 
teen or seventeen about the masts and 
rigging. The Kearsarge fired one hun- 
dred and seveutj^-three projectiles, oi 




NAVAL CoNlKST UETWCCX Till 



.,.<.K AXI> ALABAMA. 



iwo men, including officers ; the Alabama, 
about one hundred and fifty. 

For five days the Alabama had been in 
preparation. She had taken in three hun- 
dred and fifty tons of coal, which brought 
her down in the water. The Kearsarge 
had only one hundred and twentj' tons in ; 
tut, as an offset to this, her sheet-chains 
were stowed outside, stopped up and down, 
2.S an additional preventive and protection 
to her more empty bunkers. Two shots 



which one alone killed and wounded eight- 
een of the Alabama's men, and disabled 
one of her guns. 

On board the Kearsarge, three men 
were badly wounded, one of them — Wil- 
liam Gowin, of Michigan — mortally. 
Though struck quite early in the action, 
by a fragment of a shell, which badly shat- 
tered his leg, near the knee-pan, Gowin 
refused assistance, concealed the extent of 
his injury, and dragged himself from the 



588 COMBAT BETWEEN THE ALABAMA AND KEARSARGE. 



after pivot gun to the fore-hatch, unwilling 
to take any one from his station. During 
the progress of the action, he comforted 
his suffering comrades by assuring them 
that " Victory is ours ! " Whenever the 
guns' crews cheered at the successful effect 
of their shot, Gowin waved his hat over 
his head and joined in the shout. When 
brought i t length to the surgeon, he ap- 
peared with a smile on his face, though 
suffering acutely from his injury. He 
said, "It is all right, and I am satisfied, 
for we are whipping the Alabama. I wil- 
linglj' will lose my leg or life, if it is nec- 
essary." In the hospital, he was calmly 
resigned to his fate, repeating again and 
again his willingness to die, since his ship 
had won a glorious victory. 

The following conversation with one of 
the crew of the Alabama, as given in the 
London "Cornhil! Magazine," furnishes 
some interesting memorabilia concerning 
this remarkable encounter : 

"But I thought you had been in the 
oo"federate navy." 

" I was," said Aleck. " I was' with 
Semmes everywhere he went. I was in 
the naval brigade and blockade-running, 
and on the Alabama all the while he com- 
manded her." 

" But not when she sank, I suppose." 

" Well, I was, and was picked up with 
him by the Deerhound." 

" It was a pretty sharp fight, wasn't 
it?" 

" It was that ! " 

" I suppose it was the eleven-inch shells 
that did her business ? " 

" Oh, no ; we tiever had any chance. 



We had no gunners to compare with the 
Kearsarge's. Our gunners fired by rou- 
tine, and when they had the ;^un loaded, 
fired it off blind. They never changed the 
elevation of their guns all through the 
fight, and the Kearsarge was working up 
to us all the while, taking advantage of 
every time she was hid by smoke to work 
a little nearer, and then her gunners took 
aim for every shot." 

" Then it isn't true that the Alabama 
tried to board the Kearsarge ? " 

"No, sir! She did her best to get 
away from her from the time the fight 
commenced. W^e knew well that if we 
got in range of her Dahlgren howitzers 
she would sink us in ten minutes." 

'• But don't you believe that Semmes 
supposed he would whip the Kearsarge 
when he went out to fight her ? " 

"No; ho was bullied into it, and took 
good care to leave all his valuables on 
shore, and had a life preserver on through 
the fight. I saw him put it on, and I 
thought if it was wise in him it wouldn't 
bo foolish in me, and I put on one too. 
When Semmes saw that the ship was 
going down, he told us all to swim who 
could, and was one of the first to jump 
into the water, and we all made for the 
Deerhound. I was a long way ahead of 
Semmes, and, when I came up to the 
Deerhound's boat, they asked me if I was 
Semmes, before they would take me in. I 
said I wasn't, and then they asked me 
what I was on the Alabama. Said I, No 
matter what I was on the Alabama, I shall 
be a dead man soon if you don't ca'ie me 
in." 



LXXI. 



ADMIRAL FARRAGUT'S ACHIEA^EMENTS AT NEW OR- 
LEANS IN 1862, AND AT MOBILE BAT IN 1804 ; AND 
ADMIRAL PORTER'S CROWNING VICTORY 
IN 1805, AT FORT FISHER.— 1804. 



His Astonishing Feat of Running Past the Confederate Batteries — Fierce and Sanguinary Contesi 
between the Admiral's Flagship, tlie Hartford, and Admiral Buchanan's Monster Ram, the Ten- 
nessee. — The Latter Proves Herself, for a Time, a Match for the Whole Union Fleet. — Farragut'a 
Overwhelming Victory. — Farragut Pressed to Join the South. — His Unswerving Fidelity to the Old 
Flag. — High Trust Committed to Him. — Sailing of His Great Fleet. — Bold and Successful Plan of 
Battle. — Admiral Porter's Splendid Services. — Forts Jackson and St. Philip Wrecked. — New Orleans 
Again Under the United States Flag. — Another Theater of Naval Operations. — Forts, Rams, Iron- 
Clads, etc., to Fight — Powerful Build of the Tennessee. — Makes for Her Antagonist at Full Speed. — 
Intended Running Down of the Hartford. — Farragut's Masterly Maneuvers. — Unexpected Feature in 
His Tactics. — Deadly Contact of the Various Craft — Tremendous Cannonade. — The "Glory" and 
Horrors of War.— Stubborn Bravery of the Great Ram.— Crippled at Last: The White Flag. — The 
Stars and Stripes on Her Staff — Buchanan Yields His Sword. 



"Admiral for admiral— flngahip for flagship— I'll flghthimI"—FAEBAOUT, ON THE Appboach op the TBNSEeSEE. 




EAES before tlie breaking out of the civil war between the national govern- 

^^ nient and the Southern states, in the spring of 1861, the name of David Gr. 

Farragut was one of the most illustrious on the roll of the United States 

Navy, for those sterling qualities, both as a 
man and oflScer, which command universal 
respect. Having in mind, therefore, his South- 
ern birth, and his presumed sympathy with 
the disunion movement for a Southern confed- 
eracy, he was invited by those representing the 
latter cause to join his fortune to theirs. He 
promptly declined. The effort to change his 
purpose was repeated. He was urged by every 
consideration that it was supposed could influ- 
ence his action, to side with his native south ; 
he still refused. The men who made these 
j.roposals well knew Farragut. They knew 
him better than his own government then did, 
—knew the lion-like qualities that slumbered 
beneath his modest and habitually retiring 
demeanor, and the achievements of which he 
was capable when the latent powers of the 
man should be roused to active energy. As a 
last effort to win him over, they offered him 
any position which he should be pleased to 
name. This mercenary assault upon his 



FAKIUGOT'S I-I.AQ-SU 



liAlilFuaD. 



ley- 



590 



ADMIRAL FARRAGUT'S ACHIEVEMENTS. 



ally was more than his nature could endure, 
and, with a sudden and sailor-like burst of 
indignation, he replied, as he jiointed to 
the emblem of the republic, which floated 
near him, — 

" Gentlemen, your efforts are useless. 
I tell you I would see every man of you 

, before I would raise my arm against 

that flag ! " 

That flag he nobly upheld in more than 
one fierce conflict, during the ensuing 
four years, conferring the brightest and 
widest luster on his country's renown, 
and sharing, with his eminent colleagues. 
Porter, Foote, Dupont, Gillmore, Golds- 
borough, Bailey, Boggs, Worden, Wins- 
low, and others, the honors of a grateful 
country. 

Before presenting the narrative of his 
superb achievements in Mobile harbor, in 
1864, some account of the brilliant and 
terrible operations on the Mississippi, in 
the spring of 1862, will be interesting. 
Knowing the qualifications of Farragut, 
the government put him at the head of 
the great naval expedition which, in con- 
junction -with General Butler's army, was 
to undertake the capture of New Orleans. 
This task he prosecuted in a manner 
which fully justified the confidence reposed 
in liis indomitable heroism and splendid 
executive abilities, and the prize obtained 
vfas one of the richest and most important 
ever presented by a victorious chieftain to 
a grateful and admiring country. 

It was on the 17th of April, 1862, that 
the mortar fleet of Commodore Porter — 
one of the bravest captains that ever trod 
a man-of-war's deck — began the bombard- 
ment of Forts Jackson and St. Philip, 
and, on the 24th, Commodore Farragut, 
with his entire fleet, ran past the forts, 
encountering a fire almost unparalleled in 
severity, a fleet of gun-boats, including 
several iron-clads, fire-rafts, obstructions 
and torpedoes innumerable. The mortar 
fleet rained down shells on Fort Jackson, 
to try and keep the men from the guns, 
whilst the steamers of the mortar fleet 
poured in shrapnel upon the water-battery 
commanding the approach, at a short dis- 



tance, keeping them comparatively quiet. 
The squadron was formed in three lines to 
pass the forts, the divisions being led, 
respectively, by Farragut, Bailey, and 
Bell. 

Perfect success attended the flag-officer's 
boldly executed plan of battle. Fort Jack- 
son became a perfect wreck ; everything in 
the shape of a building in and about it 
was burned up by the mortar shells, and- 
over eighteen hundred shells fell in the' 
work proper, to say nothing of those which' 
burst over and went around. It was an 
exciting scene when, on the morning of 
the 24th, that signal "to advance" was 
thrown out from the flag-ship. The Ca- 
yuga led on the column. They were dis- 
covered at the boom, and a little beyond 
both forts opened fire. When close up 
with St. Philip, Bailey opened with grape 
and canister, still steering on ; and after 
passing this line of fire, he encountered 
the " Montgomery flotilla," consisting of 
eighteen gun-boats, including the ram Ma- 
nassas, and iron-battery Louisiana. This 
was a moment of anxietj', as no supporting 
ship was in sight. By skillful steering, 
however, their attempts to butt and board 
were avoided, and after forcing three of 
them to surrender, aid came ver3' oppor- 
tunely from the Varuna, Cajitain Boggs, 
and the Oneida, Captain Lee. 

The Cayuga received most of the first 
fire, but was not severely damaged. On 
her falling back, the flag-ship Hartford 
took her place. The latter had only two 
guns — which were placed on the top-gal- 
lant forecastle — that could bear on the 
enemy until within half a mile. The 
Hartford now sheered off, and gave forth 
a most terrible fire. The Pensacola ran 
up after a while, and dealt with the star- 
board batter}', and in a few minutes the 
Brooklyn ranged iip and did gallant 
service. The passing of Forts Jackson 
and St. Philip, Farragut describes as one 
of the most awful sights and events he 
ever witnessed. The smoke was so dense 
that it was only now and then anything 
could be seen but the flash of the cannon 
and the fire-ships or rafts, one of which 



ADMIRAL FARRAGUT'S ACHIEVEMENTS. 



591 



was pushed down upon the Hartford by 
the ram Manassas. In his effort to avoid 
this, Farragut ran his ship on shore, and 
then the fire-raft was pushed alongside, — 
the ship in a moment being one blaze all 
along the port side, half-way up to the 
main and mizzen tops. But, by adroit 
management, the flames were extinguished, 
and the Hartford backed off and got clear 
of the raft. But all this time she was 
pouring shells into the forts, and they into 
her. At length the fire slackened, the 



then sent on beard of her, but she was 
riddled and deserted, and after a while she 
drifted down the stream, full of water, — 
the last of eleven that the union armj' had 
destroyed. The larger ram, at Fort Jack- 
son, was subsequently blown up. On the 
28th, General Butler landed above Fort 
St. Philip, under the guns of the Missis- 
sippi and the Kineo. 

So desperate was the proposed attempt 
to run past Forts Jackson and St. Philip 
regarded at the time, that some French 




smoke cleared off, and the forts had been 
passed. Here and there was a confeder- 
ate gun-boat on fire, trj-ing to make their 
escape, but they were fired into and rid- 
dled and soon became wrecks. The Mis- 
sissippi and the Manassas made a set at 
each other at full speed, and when they 
were within thirty or forty yards, the ram 
dodged the Mississippi and ran on shore, 
when the latter poured her broadside into 
her, knocked away her smoke-stack, and 



and English officers, who had been to ^ew 
Orleans and inspected the fortifications, 
pronounced such an undertaking absc>- 
lutely insane. Nor were they alone in 
their military opinion of its rashness and 
impossibility. It is related that when 
that brave veteran, Commodore Goldsbor- 
ough, first heard the news of Farragufs 
exploit, — communicated to him by a news- 
paper correspondent who boarded the 
Minnesota at Fortress Monroe, while on 



692 



ADMIRAL FARRAGUT'S ACHIEVEMENTS. 



his way north with dispatches, — some- 
thing like the following conversation took 
place : 

"Commodore," said the correspondent, 
" I haFe the pleasure of informing you 
that Commodore Farragut has run past 
Forts Philip and Jackson with his fleet, 
and taken New Orleans." 

" Run past the batteries ? " exclaimed 
Commodore Goldsborough. 

" Yes, sir." 

" It's not true, sir — it's a he ! It 
couldn't be done." 

A blunt and sailor-like demand for the 
unconditional surrender of the city was 
made upon Mayor Monroe, — a demand 
which, of course, he was in no condition 
to resist ; and it was not long before the 
venerable national flag was floating over 
the city hall, the mint, and the custom- 
house, and, at the same time, all flags 
emblematic of any other sovereignty than 
that of the United States were instantly 
removed, and never reappeared. 

It was in the early part of August, 
1864, however, that the country was elec- 
trified by that signal achievement by Far- 
ragut, in Mobile Bay, which placed him in 
the very foremost rank among the naval 
heroes of modern times. Guarded at its 
entrance by two imposing fortifications, of 
immense strength, the bay also floated at 
this time a formidable naval fleet, under the 
command of Admiral Buchanan, one of 
the ablest officers in the confederate serv- 
ice. For a long time, Farragut watched 
for his opportunity, and it came at last, 
under circumstances the most favorable, 
as the result proved, for union success. 

From the official reports, and the vari- 
ous accounts furnished by the reporters 
for the press, the following sketch of this 
celebrated achievement is prepared. For 
some months, Farragut — now holding the 
rank of Rear-Admiral — had commanded the 
United States blockading fleet off Mobile, 
and it was with some impatience that he 
awaited the means necessary to justify 
him in moving up and attacking the 
defenses of the city. Knowing the disad- 
vantage of attacking iron-cased vessels 



with wooden ones, and that, too, in the 
face and under the guns of heavy fortresses, 
without a co-operating land force, he de- 
ferred the movement until those essential 
helps were provided, though holding him- 
self in readiness to meet, at any time, the 
fleet of Buchanan, should it venture out. 

In the summer, Farragut found himself 
in command of four iron-clads and four- 
teen wooden ships-of-war, aided by a small 
land force under Gen. Gordon Granger. 
On the morning of August 6th, therefore, 
all things being ready, he went up the 
bay, passing between Forts Morgan and 
Gaines, and encountering the formidable 
confederate ram Tennessee, and also the 
gun-boats of the enemy, Selma, Morgan, 
and Gaines. The attacking fleet was 
under way by quarter before six in the 
morning, in the following order : The 
Brooklyn, with the Octorara on her port 
side ; Hartford, with the Metacomet ; 
Eichmond, with the Port Royal ; Lacka/- 
wanna, with the Seminole; Monongahela, 
with theTecumseh ; Ossipee, with theltas- 
CO ; and the Oneida, with the Galena. On 
the starboard of the fleet was the proper 
position of the monitors or iron-clads. 
The wind was light from the south-west, 
and the sky cloudy, with very little sun. 
Fort Morgan opened upon them at ten 
minutes past seven, and soon after this 
the action became lively. As they steamed 
up the main ship channel, there was some 
difficulty ahead, and the Hartford passed 
on ahead of the Brooklyn. At twenty min- 
utes before eight, the Tecumseh was struck 
by a torpedo and sunk, going down very 
rapidly, and carrying down with her all 
the officers and crew, with the exception 
of the pilot and eight or ten men, who 
were saved by a boat '' jnt from the Meta- 
comet. 

The Hartford had passed the forts before 
eight o'clock, and, finding himself raked 
by the confederate gun-boats, Farragut 
ordered the Metacomet to cast off and go 
in pursuit of them, one of which, the 
Selma, she succeeded in capturing. All 
the vessels had passed the forts by half- 
past eight, but the confederate ram 



ADMIKAL FARRAGUT'S ACHIEVEMENTS. 



593 



Tennessee was still apparently uninjured, 
in the rear of the union vessels. A signal 
was at once made to all the fleet to turn 
again and attack the ram, not only with 
guns, but to run her down at full speed. 
The Monongahela was the first that struck 
her, but did not succeed in disabling her. 
The Lackawanna also struck her, but inef- 
fectually. The flag-ship gave her a severe 
shock with her bow, and as she passed 
poured into her a whole port broadside of 
solid nine-inch shot and thirteen pounds 
of powder, at a distance of not more than 
twelve feet. The iron-clads were closing 
on her, and the Hartford and the rest of 
the fleet were bearing down upon her, 
when, at ten o'clock, she surrendered. 
The rest of the confederate fleet, namely, 
the Morgan and the Gaines, succeeded in 
getting back under the protection of Fort 
Morgan. This terminated the action of 
the day Admiral Buchanan was himself 
badly wounded with a compound fracture 
of the leg. 

On the following day, one of the iron- 
clads shelled Fort Gaines, and with such 
effect, that Colonel Anderson, the com- 
mander, sent a communication to Farra- 
gut, offering to surrender. General Gran- 
ger, commanding the military forces, was 
sent for, and the terms of capitulation 
were signed by the respective parties on 
board of the Hartford. From this time 
onward, movements were in progress for 
capturing Fort Morgan, and, on the 22d 
of August, at day dawn, a bombardment 
was opened from the shore batteries, the 
monitors and ships inside, and the vessels 
outside the bay. At six o'clock in the 
morning, August 23d, a white flag was 
displayed by the ccn "ederates, and, at two 
o'clock in the afternoon, the fort was un- 
conditionally surrendered to the navy and 
army of the United States. Fort Powell 
had been already attacked on the night of 
the fifth, and blown up. 

With what spirit the fierce and sanguin- 
inary conflict between the Tennessee and 
Hartford was carried on, may be judged 
from the fact, that, when it was reported 
to Farragut that the monster was bear- 
38 



ing down upon him, he hastened on deck 
with the remark — 

" He is after me ! let him come on if it 
must be so; admiral for admiral— flag- 
ship for flag-ship— Fll fight hi7n! " 

The Tennessee was close at hand, and 
coming with all her speed directly at the 
Hartford, evidently with the intention of 
running her down. Farragut mounted to 
the maintop and surveyed his ground, 
arranging hastily his plan of battle. This 
settled quietly in his own mind, he awaited 
the approach of the monster. Perfect 
quiet prevailed on board the Hartford ; 
not a gun was fired ; no crew was to be 
seen ; her broadside lay plumply exposed 
to the tremendous blow the Tennessee was 
hastening to give. But, suddenly, there 
was a change ! 

When the monster had approached near 
enough to answer the purpose which Far- 
ragut had in view, the helm of the Hart- 
ford was put hard a port, her machinery 
started, she described a segment of a circle, 
and, just as Buchanan had thought to 
strike her squarely amidship and cut her 
in two, — as he was capable of doing, — the 
towering brow of the noble old ship struck 
him a tremendous blow on his port quarter 
forward, that knocked every man aboard 
his craft off his feet. The force of the 
collision checked the headway of both ves- 
sels. The blow given by the Hartford 
was a glancing one, and the two vessels 
came up broadside to broadside. At this 
moment, a full broadside from the Hart- 
ford was let go at her antagonist, but it 
was like throwing rubber balls against a 
brick wall, — nine-inch solid sine though 
they were, and fired from the muzzles of 
her guns scarcely twelve feet distant. 
Simultaneously, Buchanan also discharged 
his broadside of four Brookes's rifles, which 
passed completely through the Hartford, 
and expended their force in the water 
beyond. 

The Tennessee immediately put on 
steam again, and started to try her strength 
with some other of the wooden vessels. 
The Brooklyn lay nearest, and for that 
ship she headed. Here she was met with 



694 



ADMIRAL FAERAGUT'S ACHIEVEMENTS. 



almost jjrecisely the same reception as 
with tlie Hartford. Instead of butting 
she received a butt — both vessels came 
together, broadside to broadside ; both 
broadsides were discharged, and the ram 
went on her way to try another, and 
anotlier, — and all of them, — but with no 
better success. 

She now started to run back through 
the fleet, but here a new combination 
awaited her. The monitors had come \ip ! 
— the appearance of which seemed for a 
moment to disconcert the monster. From 
the first, he had shown a wholesome dread 



he signaled to the whole fleet. The little 
monitor Manhattan appeared directly in 
front of the ram, to head him off. The 
rest of the fleet formed a circle about the 
monster, and all commenced paying him 
their heaviest compliments. It was a ter- 
rible fire — eveiy ball that struck the union 
vessels did execution, making great holes 
in their sides and reddening their decks 
with blood; but every shot that struck the 
Tennessee glanced away like a rubber ball. 
To meet the exigency at this critical state 
of affairs, Farragut's vessels were put in 
motion, describing a circle about the mon- 





DNION KAVAL VICTUBY, LN MUBILfc: BAY. 



of them, and by skillful maneuvering and 
his greater speed had managed to avoid 
them. Now they hammered him to the 
utmost of their ability. The three had 
managed each to get a position in a differ- 
ent direction from each other, and which- 
ever way the ram turned he met these 
ugly and invincible foes. At first he was 
shy, and seemed irresolute as to what 
course to pursue, but finally seemed deter- 
mined to get out of the bad scrape by run- 
ning through the fleet back to the friendly 
protection of Fort Morgan. 

Now, then, Admiral Farragut's fine 
tactics developed themselves, and which 



ster, the sloops and monitors being directed 
to ram her every time they came around, 
which was done with deadly effect. Each 
vessel chased its leader about, throwing a 
broadside at the enemy at every opportun- 
ity, and at every chance getting a ball aj 
her. 

In this way the plucky fellow was ter 
ribly used. Every time one of the sloops 
came on to the Tennessee, the concussion 
was such as to throw the crew of the mon- 
ster off their feet. The frequency with 
which she was thus rammed, and the con- 
tinuous artillery fire that was rained upon 
her, so demoralized her men, that thej 



ADMIRAL FARRAGUT'S ACHIEVEMENTS. 



595 



are said to have begged to surrender, fear- 
ing, at every new shock, that they would 
be sent to the bottom. The course pur- 
sued by the vessels was cuch that the ram 
was unable to get range upon any of them 
so as to run them down, thus compelling 
the ram to remain passive. Or, if she 
attempted to escape the tormentors, an 
unlocked for enemy would come and strike 
her on the quarter, and throw her out of 
her course. During this melee, the Man- 
hattan got one good shot in directly at the 
ram's broadside. The huge ball of iron 
struck fairly at the lower angle of the 
heavy casemates and penetrated into the 
inside, spending its force in the effort. 
This was the only shot that ever passed 
through her iron. Against such odds in 
number, such cannonading and punching 
and entanglement, the ram could not con- 
tinue ; and so the formidable craft — her 
smoke-stack shot away, her steering chains 
gone, several of her port-shutters so jam- 
med by the shot that they could not be 
opened, and one of them battered to 
fragments, with the Chickasaw boring 
away at her stern, and four other great 
vessels coming at her full speed — finally 
succumbed, after a fight of somewhat more 
than an hour. 

On its being reported to Admiral Far- 
ragut that the Tennessee had duly sur- 
rendered, and that Admiral Buchanan 
was wounded, he sent a staff officer off to 
receive the confederate admiral's sword. 
Some one asked Farragut if he would not 
go off himself and see Buchanan. The 
former merely replied, " No, sir, he is my 
enemy." Subsequently, when the staff 
officer returned, with Buchanan's sword, 
it was represented to the admiral that 
Buchanan had expressed a wish to see 
him. " Well, sir, he shan't see me ! " 
replied the old Salamander. Then, look- 
ing with most concentrated expression of 
countenance upon the bloody decks of his 
ship, he added — 

" I suppose he would be friends ; but 
with these brave men, my comrades, man- 
gled, dying and dead about me, and, 
looking upon the destruction caused 



in the fleet, 1 can only cons"<<;r him an 
enemy." 

On the staff officer getting on board, 
Admiral Buchanan was found to be severely 
wounded in the leg. He yielded with a 
very bad grace — in fact, it was said that, 
after receiving his wound, he gave orders 
to his next in command to continue the 
fight as long as there was a man left ; and 
then, when he found he could do no more, 
to run the vessel ashore and blow her up. 
But there was no alternative — the ram 
must be surrendered ; and this was done. 
The stars and stripes were hoisted upon 
the staff of the magnificent ram — truly 
one of the most powerful and perfectly 
constructed of her class — greeted, as they 
went up, by the hearty and long-continued 
cheers of the whole fleet. 

Nothing could exceed the devotion of 
Admiral Farragut's men to their com- 
mander. Thus, after the Hartford had 
hauled off fi-om her fierce assault upon the 
Tennessee, and as she was again pointed 
fair for another blow, and thunderingly 
going down upon her to dash into her a 
second time, — suddenly, to the surprise of 
all, the Hartford was herself tremendously 
struck by one of the heaviest union vessels 
which was also coming down upon the con- 
federate monster, and it was thought for a 
brief moment, so fearful was the blow, 
that she must go down. Immediately, 
and high above the din of battle, hoarse, 
anxious voices were heard crying — 

" The admiral! the admiral! save the 
admiral! Get the admiral out of the 
ship ! " 

The brave men utterly forgot them- 
selves — thought not a moment of their 
own safety, but only of their glorious old 
admiral. Nothing, certainly, could better 
illustrate the attachment and devotion of 
the whole squadron for their admiral than 
this. When they themselves were in 
imminent peril of death, they only cared 
for him ! Finding the vessel would float, 
notwithstanding the possible serious re- 
sults ultimately, the brave old admiral 
turned to his gallant fleet-captain with the 
order — 



596 



ADMIRAL FARRAGUT'S ACHIEVEMENTS. 



" Go on with speed ! Ram her again ! " 

Onward the Hartford sped, determined 
to ' do and die,' if need be ; but, just before 
she reached her, the white flag of surren- 
der was hoisted above the discomfited 
Tennessee, and soon all the victor^', over 
one of the bravest of foes, was with Far- 
ragut and his noble men. 

A little incident in this contest may 
also be cited here, as illustrating his high 
personal qualities as a man and officer, — 
exhibiting, too, as it does, one of the 
secrets of his courage and self-command, 
no matter what the stress or pressure of 
circumstances around him : 

"Admiral," said one of his officers, the 
night before the battle, " won't you con- 
sent to give Jack a glass of grog in the 
morning — not enough to make him drunk, 
but just enough to make him fight cheer- 
fully ? " 

" Well," replied the admiral, " I have 
been to sea considerable, and have seen a 
battle or two, but I have never found that 
I wanted rum to enable me to do my 
duty. I will order two cups of good coffee 
to each man, at two o'clock, and at eight 
o'clock I will pipe all hands to breakfast 
in Mobile Bay." 

The descriptions of this great naval 
action usually' represent Admiral Farra- 
gut as having tied himself among the rig- 
ging, or at the mast-head, of his ship, and 
there observing the battle and giving his 
directions. Concerning this, he was on a 
subsequent occasion inquired of by one of 
the gentle sex, as follows : 

"Admiral," said the lady, " do tell me if 
it was true, as they said, that you were 
lashed to the mast, down at Mobile Bay ? " 

"Ah ! " said the admiral, good natur- 
edly, " I'll tell you all about that. You 
know that in a fight the smoke of the guns 
lies on the water, and, naturally, I would 
want to see over it, to know what was 
going on. Well, I would jump upon a 
box — so high " (indicating with his 
hand) ; then I would get up a little 
higher; and by-and-by I got up to where 
they said. I suppose I was two hours get- 
ting as high as that. I had a little rope 



that I lashed around me, just to keep from 
falling, in case I should get hurt. Every 
one, you know, is liable to get hurt in a 
fight." 

Up to the time of the surrender of Fort 
Morgan, the union loss in all was one ship 
sunk by a torpedo, one burned through 
infraction of orders, and three hundred 
and thirty men killed and wounded, half 
of whom were killed by drowning or tlie 
fire of the enemy. On the other hand, 
the unionists took about fifteen hundred 
prisoners, captured the two best vessels of 
the confederates, forced them to burn the 
gun-boat Gaines, and drove the rest of 
their fleet beyond. Three forts, with 
one hundred guns of heavy caliber, with .'ill 
their material, were unconditionally sur- 
rendered to the victors. The United 
States steamer Oneida suffered more than 
any other vessel. 

The ram Tennessee varied somewhat in 
form from the grim old Merrimac, Bu- 
chanan's first monster. The Tennessee's 
armor consisted of two and a half inch 
iron, in bars eight inches wide, crossing 
each other, and bolted down with one anu 
three-quarter inch bolts, making five inches 
of solid iron. This again was backed by 
two feet of solid oak throughout the entire 
portion of the boat above the water-line, 
and extending some feet even below that. 
From her forward casemates forward, in- 
cluding her pilot-house, an additional inch 
of iron was given her, making six inches 
of plating, and an additional foot, making 
three feet of wooden backing, at this part 
of the boat. What may be called her gun- 
room occupied about two-thirds of her 
length, and was constructed with a flat 
tojj, composed of two and a half by eight- 
inch iron bars, crossed and bolted together, 
forming a close lattice-work above her 
gunners, and affording ventilation while 
in action. Her ports, two on either side, 
and one fore and aft, were closed by 
means of iron shutters, which revolved 
upon a pivot in the center of one side, 
and were worked by means of a cog-wheel 
on the inside, in a very simple and expe- 
ditious manner. In all her qualities of 



ADMIRAL FARRAGUT'S ACHIEVEMENTS. 



597 



ronstruction and equipment, the Tennessee 
was one of the most formidable craft that 
ever floated. 

In close connection with this vast and 
splendid series of achievements, and as 
having a direct bearing upon the victori- 
ous ending of the war by the valor of the 
navy, — in which operations the brave 
Admiral Porter exhibited his distinguish- 
ing characteristics of unquailing courage 
and consummate judgment, and whose 
magnificent services would have long since 
elevated him to the chief magistracy of 
his country, but for the traditionally dis- 
proportionate influence of the army in 
national politics and counsels, — the cap- 
ture of Fort Fislier, N. C, deserves to be 
here recorded. 

According to the official report, this 
expedition, under the joint command of 
Admiral Porter and General Terry, sailed 
from Fortress Monroe on the morning of 
January 6, 1865, arriving in two days 
at the rendezvous off Beaufort, where, 
owing to the difficulties of the weather, it 
iay some ten days, when it got under way, 
reaching its destination that evening. 
Under cover of the fleet, the disembarka- 



tion of the troops was effected without 
loss. An immediate reconnoissance was 
pushed to within about five hundred yards 
of the fort, a small advjince work being 
taken possession of and turned into a 
defensive line, against any attempt that 
might be made from the fort. This recon- 
noissance disclosed the fact that the front 
of the work had been seriously injured by 
the navy fire. Not many hours, therefore, 
were allowed to elapse before the fort was 
assaulted, and, after most desperate fight- 
ing, was captured, with its entire garrison 
and armament. Thus was secured, by 
the combined efforts of the navy and 
army, what — in the language of General 
Grant — was one of the most hi-illiant and 
important successes of the war. The fed- 
eral loss was one hundred and ten killed 
and five hundred and thirty-six wounded. 
On the 16th and 17th, the enemy, well 
knowing the nerve and prowess of Por- 
ter, abandoned and blew up Fort Caswell, 
and their works on Smith's Island, which 
were at once occupied by the federal 
forces, — thus giving to the latter the 
entire control of the mouth of the Oap« 
Fear river. 



LXXII. 

GRAND MARCH OF THE UNION ARMY, UNDER GEN. 
SHERMAN, THROUGH THE SOUTH.— 1864. 



Generals and Armies Baffled, and States and Cities Conquered, Without a Serious Disaster to the Vic- 
tors. — Display of Military Genius Unsurpassed in Any Age or Country. — Tlie Soutliern Confederacy 
Virtually Crushed Within the Coils of this Wide-Sweeping, Bold, and Resistless Movement. — The 
Great Closing Act in the Campaign. — Sherman's Qualities as a Commander. — His Great Military Suc- 
cess. — His Own Story. — A Brilliant Campaign Planned. — Brave and Confident Troops. — Atlanta, 
Ga., the First Great Prize. — Destroys that City: Starts for the Coast. — Kilpatrick Leads the Cav- 
alry. — Thomas Defends the Border States. — Successful Feints Made by Sherman. — Subsists His 
Men on the Enemy's Country. — Immense Sweep of the Onward Columns. — Savannah's Doom 
Sealed. — Fall of Fort McAllister. — Christmas Gift to the President. — Advance Into South Carolina. — 
The Stars and Stripes in Her Capital. — All Opposition Powerless — North Carolina's Turn Next. — 
Swamps, Hills, Quagmires, Storms, Floods — Battles Fought: Onward to Raleigh. — Johnston's 
Whole Army Bagged. — Sherman Described Personally. 



"1 beg to prenent you, m n Chrintmaa Riff, the city of Snvannah, with one hundred and fifty heavy guns, plenty of ommuDitiOD, and 
■boot twenty-five tbouuand bales of cottou."— Gb.nekal buEEHAN TO Pkesiue.nt Lihcoln. 



!t^ 



A.LIANT, resolute, and hopeful as a soldier, Gen- 
^^^^ eral Sherman added to these qualities the wisdom 

and genius of Washington 



himself as a commander. His 
March to the Sea has been 
universally pronounced, both 
in America and Europe, one 
of the most brilliant military 
results — esjiecially when con- 
sidered in connection with the 
slight cost of life at which it 
was achieved — presented in 
the long and varied historj' of 
war. It was, in a word, one of the greatest and most important of modern campaigns, 
conducted with complete success, without any considerable battle. And yet it was his 
own native sagacity, more than anything else, which enabled General Sherman to 
plan and execute the vast undertakings which have crowned his name with imperisha- 
ble honor. " I have oftentimes," said General Sherman, in an address at West Point, 
"been asked by friends familiar with Xenophon, Hume, and Jomini, in which of these 
books I had learned the secret of leading armies on long and difficult marches, and they 
seemed surprised when I answered that I was not aware that I had been influenced by 




UEAD-Q0ARTERS, ATLASTA, GA. 



SHERMAN'S MARCH THROUGH THE SOUTH. 



599 



any of them. I told them what I now tell 
you, in all simplicity and truth, that, when 
I was a young lieutenant of artilleiy, I had 
often hunted deer in the swamps of the 
Edisto, the Cooper, and the Santee, and had 
seen with my own eyes that they could be 
passed with w^agons ; that in the spring of 
1844, I had ridden on horseback from 
IMarietta, Ga., to the valley of the Tennes- 
see, and back to Augusta, passing in mv 
course over the very fields of Altoona, of 
Kenesaw, and Atlanta, where afterward it 
fell to my share to command armies and to 
utilize the knowledge thus casually gained. 
Again, in 1849 and 1850, I was in Cali- 
fornia, and saw arrive across that wild belt 
of two thousand miles of uninhabitable 
country the caravans of emigrants, com- 
posed of men, women, and children, who 
reached their destination in health and 
strength ; and when we used to start on a 
journey of a thousand miles, with a single 
blanket as covering, and a coil of dried 
meat and a sack of parched corn meal as 
food ; — with this knowledge fairly acquired 
in actual experience, was there any need 
for me to look back to Alexander the 
Great, to Marlborough, for examjiles ? " 
r>ut to all this kind of knowledge — useful, 
doubtless, in the highest degree. General 
Sherman added the possession of the most 
commanding military genius. 

It was early in IVIay, 1864, that General 
Sherman began the brilliant series of his 
campaigns. The first objective point was 
Atlanta. To reach that city, his armies 
had to pass from the northern limit to the 
center of the great state of Georgia, forcing 
their way through mountain defiles and 
across great rivers, overcoming or turning 
formidably intrenched positions defended 
by a strong, well-appointed veteran armj-, 
commanded by an alert, cautious, and skill- 
ful general. The campaign opened on the 
sixth of May, and on the second of Septem- 
ber the national forces entered Atlanta. 

For some time previously to the opening 
Liovement, says General Sherman's report, 
the union armies were lying in garrison 
seemingly quiet, from Knoxville to Hunts- 
ville, and the enemy lay behind his rocky- 



faced barrier at Dalton, proud, defiant, 
and exulting. He had had time since 
Christmas to recover from his discomfiture 
at Mission Ridge, with his ranks filled, 
and a new commander-in-chief, and second 
to none in the confederacy in reputation 
for skill, sagacity, and extreme popularity. 
All at once, the union armies assumed life 
and action, and appeared before Dalton. 
Threatening Rocky Face, they threw 
themselves ujion Resaca, the enemy only 
escaping by the rapidity of their retreat, 
aided by the numerous roads with which 
they only were familiar. Again the con- 
federate army took post in Altoona, but 
found no rest, for, by a circuit towards 
Dallas and subsequent movement to Ac- 
worth, the union army gained the Al- 
toona Pass. Then followed the eventful 
battles about Kenesaw, and the escape of 
the confederates across the Chattahoochee 
river. The crossing of the Chattahoochee 
and treaking of the Augusta road was 
handsomely executed by Sherman's army. 
It was at this stage of proceedings, that the 
confederate authorities became dissatisfied 
with Johnston as commander, and selected 
one more bold and rash, — General Hood. 
New tactics were adopted by the latter. 
He first boldly and rajjidly, on the twen- 
tieth of July, fell on the union right, at 
Peach Tree creek, and lost. Again, on 
the 22d, he struck the extreme union left, 
and was severely punished; and finally, 
again on the 28th, he unsuccessfully re- 
peated the attempt on the union right. 
Sherman slowly and gradually drew his 
lines about Atlanta, feeling for the rail- 
road which supplied the confederate army 
and made Atlanta a place of importance. 
The enemy met these efforts patiently and 
skillfully, but at last Hood made the mis- 
take which Sherman had waited for so 
long, sending his cavalry to the union 
rear, far beyond the reach of recall. In- 
stantly Sherman's cavalry was on Hood's 
only remaining road, with the principal 
army following quietly, and Atlanta fell 
into Sherman's possession, as the fruit of 
well-concerted measures, backed by a brave 
and confident army. 



600 



SHEEMAI>r'S MARCH THROUGH THE SOUTH. 



Hood's plan was, to force General Sher- 
man from Georgia, by cutting off his rom- 
munications, and invading Tennessee and 
Kentucky. Pursuant to this plan, Hood, 
by a rapid march, gained and broke up, at 
Big Shanty, the railroad that supplied 
Sherman's army, advanced to Dalton, and 
thence moved toward Tennessee. Hood 
was followed from Atlanta by Sherman far 
enough north to cover his own purpose and 
assure him against Hood's interrupting 
the march to the sea-coast which he had in 
contemplation. The task of encountering 
Hood's formidable movements, and defend- 
ing the border states from invasion, was 
intrusted to General Thomas, who was 
ably assisted by his second in command, 
General Schofield. 

It appears from Major Nichols's graphic 
diary of the events connected with this 
great march — the narrative of his excel- 
lent observations as one of Sherman's staff 
officers — that the general, from his camp 
at Gaylesville, while awaiting the develop- 
ment of Hood's design, sketched out the 
march to Goldsboro'. Seated in front of 
his tent, towards the end of October, 1864, 
with his generals around him, and the 
map of the states spread on his knees 
Sherman ran his finger over the map, and 
indicated his course to Savannah. Then, 
after pondering on the map of South Car- 
olina, his finger rested on Columbia, and 
looking up, he said — 

" Howard, I believe we can go there, 
without any serious difficulty. If we can 
cross the Salkahatchie, we can capture 
Columbia." 

After giving expression to this strik- 
ing strategic insight, General Sherman 
passed his finger quickly over rivers, 
swamps, and cities, to Goldsboro', N. C, 
saying — 

" That point is a few days' march 
through a rich country. When we reach 
that important railway junction — when I 
once plant this army at Goldsboro', — Lee 
must leave Virginia, or he will be defeated 
beyond hope of recovery. We can make 
this march, for General Grant assures me 
that Lee cannot get away from Richmond 



without his knowledge, nor without seri- 
ous loss to his army." 

This prediction, showing at once the 
most remarkable forecast and most com- 
prehensive generalship, was at once put in 
course of fulfillment. 

Atlanta having served its purpose in 
General Sherman's plans — a resting-place 
on bis way to Savannah, to Columbia, and 
to Richmond if need be, — it was given up 
to the flames, that its workshops might 
never again be employed in casting shot 
and shell for the confederacy. The rail- 
ways were torn up, the people turned 
away, and torches were applied to the 
stores and magazines. A space of two 
hundred acres was soon on fire, and its 
progress watched until the conflagration 
had spread beyond the power of man to 
arrest its destructive work, and then the 




_j,^ — <-•- 



union forces marched out of the unfortu- 
nate city with solemn tread, their band 
playing the wild anthem, "John Brown's 
soul goes marching on." The army num- 
bered about sixtj'-five thousand men. 

As the news of Sherman's great move- 
ment became known at the north, intense 
interest was felt in the result, and it may 
well be supposed that not a few were filled 
with the greatest apprehensions, in view of 
the dangers to be encountered. That the 
president, however, did not share in any 
such feeling of alarm in regard to thy 
issue, is shown by the following conversti- 



SHERMAN'S MAECH THEOUGH THE SOUTH. 



(JOi 



tion on the subject, between him and a 
friend. 

Said Mr. Lincoln's friend : " Mr. Lin- 
coln, as Sherman's army advances, the 
rebel forces necessarily concentrate and 
increase in number. Before long, Sher- 
man will drive the columns of Johnston, 
Bragg, Hoke, and others, within a few 
days' march of Lee's main army. May 
not Lee suddenly march south with the 
bulk of his army, form a junction with 
Johnston's troojjs, and before Grant can 
follow any considerable distance, strike 
Sherman's column with superior force, 
break his lines, defeat his army, and drive 
his broken fragments back to the coast, 
and with his whole army give battle to 
Grant, and perhaps defeat him ? " 

President Lincoln instantly replied: 
" And perhaps not! Napoleon tried the 
same game on the British and Prussians, 
in 1815. He concentrated his forces and 
fell suddenly on Blucher, and won an inde- 
cisive victory. He then whirled round and 
attacked the British, and met his Water- 
loo. Bonaparte was hardly inferior to 
Lee in military talents or experience. 
But are you sure that Lee's forces, united 
with Johnston's, could beat Sherman's 
army ? Could he gain his Ligny, before 
meeting with his Waterloo when he at- 
tacks Grant." I tell you, there is a heap 
of fight in one hundred thousand western 
veterans. They are a good deal like old 
Zach. Taylor at Buena Vista, — they donh 
know tvhen they are whip2}ed f " 

In turning his back upon Atlanta, Gen- 
eral Sherman divided his army for the 
great march into two wings. General 
Howard commanding the right, and Gen- 
eral Slocum the left ; General Kilpatrick 
handled the cavalry under Sherman's 
orders. The various corps composing the 
wings were led, respectively, by Generals 
Osterhaus, Blair, Davis, and Williams; 
and Sherman for a time accompanied one 
wing and then the other. 

On the 13th of November, Sherman's 
communications with the north ceased. 
Spreading itself out like a fan, the extreme 
left wing swept down the Augusta road. 



and the extreme right marched towards 
Macon, the space between being covered 
by two corps, one from each wing, and the 
cavalry riding well on the flanks. Mil- 
ledgeville, the capital of Georgia, on the 
Oconee, was the first point of concentra- 
tion for the left wing. The right wing, 
preceded and flanked by cavalry, went 
down the roads towards Macon, sweeping 
away the small opposing forces mustered 
by Cobb and Wheeler, and advancing as 
far as Griffin. The left wing went by 
Covington to Madison, and there, sending 
the cavalry towards Augusta, turned south- 
ward by way of Eatonton to Milledgeville. 
The right, after maneuvering in the direc- 
tion of Macon, crossed the Ocmulgee above 
it, and, passing by Clinton, descended 
upon Gordon, whence a branch line led to 
Milledgeville. 

The movement of troops on so many 
points had confounded the confederates. 
The autliorities of Augusta believed their 
town was the object of the march ; those 
of Macon were certain that it was against 
them the enemy was coming. In reality, 
Sherman had turned toward Macon, and 
had cut off at least the infantry force 
there, and rendered it useless. They 
showed fight, however, attacking a small 
union force, pushed up to Griswoldville to 
protect the confederates who were destroy- 
ing the railroad, and were punished se- 
verely for their courage. 

In a week after quitting Atlanta, the 
left wing was united at Milledgeville and 
the right at Gordon, while the cavalry 
were scouring the flanks. In the mean- 
time. General Wheeler had ridden round 
the right flank, and crossing the Oconee, 
had turned to defend the passage of the 
swampy stream. But his resistance was 
vain. Slocum moved out from Milledgeville 
upon Sandersville, and Howard marched 
on both sides of the Savannah railway, 
thrusting Wheeler away from the bridge 
over the Oconee, and crossing himself 
without the loss of a man. The left wing 
was now converging on Louisville, while 
the right struck across the country, by 
Swainsboro', upon Millen. It was now 



602 SHEHMAN'S MAKCH THROUGH THE SOUTH. 
















SHERMAN-S MARCH THROUGH THE SOUTH. 



603 



piain that the confederates had no troops 
strong enough to interrupt the march, as 
all their efforts had failed to arrest the 
forward movement of the columns. 

In this way, covering a wide front, now 
filing through swamps, now spreading out 
on a broad front under the tufted pines, 
now halting to tear up, twist, and burn 
rails and sleepers, now collecting cattle and 
forage, and everywhere welcomed and fol- 
lowed by the negroes, the army pressed 
forward to its goal. The left flankers came 
down through Sparta, the solid body of the 
left wing marched through Davisboro', the 
right moved steadily forward upon Millen, 
while Kilpatrick was in the front threat- 
ening Waynesboro', and destroying the 
bridges on the way to Augusta. At length 
the whole force, save one corps, crossed 
the Ogeechee and united at Millen. 

Here, again, Sherman kept his oppo- 
nents in doubt respecting the course he 
would pursue. At Millen he threatened 
both Augusta and Savannah, and he made 
such strong demonstrations on the Au- 
gusta road, that lie led the confederates to 
fear for Augusta, and so prevented them 
from concentrating their troops at Savan- 
nah. Kilpatrick, supported b}' two infan- 
try brigades, very effectually disposed of 
Wheeler. The army halted two days, and, 
refreshed and united, began on the second 
of December, its final march upon Savan- 
nah. The whole force, save one corps, 
went steadily down the strip of land be- 
tween the Savannah and the Ogeechee, 
while the one corps on the right bank, 
marching in two columns, a day in ad- 
vance of the main body, effectually pre- 
vented the confederates from making any 
stand on the main road by constantly 
flanking every position, — a sound precau- 
tion, though not needed. 

The correspondents who accompanied 
this grand army on its triumphant march, 
have furnished abundant narrative con- 
cerning that brilliant consummation of its 
toils, the capture of Savannah. It was on 
the evening of December 12th, says one of 
these, that General Howard relieved 
Hazen's second division of the fifteenth 



corps, by a part of the Seventeenth, and 
threw it across the Little Ogeechee, 
toward the Great Ogeechee, with the 
view of crossing it to Ossabaw Island, 
and reducing Fort McAllister, which held 
the river and the city. The confederates 
had destroyed King's bridge, across the 
Great Ogeechee, and this had to be re- 
paired ; this was done — one thousand feet 
of bridging — during the night, and, on the 
morning of the 13th, Hazen crossed and 
moved toward the point where Fort McAl- 
lister obstructed the river. Kilpatrick, in 
the meantime, had moved down to St. 
Catherine's sound, opened communication 
with the fleet, and asked permission to 
storm Fort McAllister; but Sherman 
thought the cavalry unequal to this feat. 

Hazen made his arrangements to storm 
the fort on the afternoon of the 13th, Gen- 
erals Sherman and Howard being at Che- 
roe's rice mill, on the Ogeechee, opposite 
the fort. Sherman was on the roof of the 
mill, surrounded by his staff and signal 
officers, Beckley and Cole, waiting to com- 
municate with Hazen, on the Island. 
While patiently waiting for Hazen's sig- 
nals, Sherman's keen eye detected smoke 
in the horizon, seaward. Up to this time 
he had received no intelligence from the 
fleet. In a moment the countenance of 
the bronzed chieftain lightened up, and he 
exclaimed — 

" Look ! Howard ; there is the gun- 
boat!" 

Time passed on, and the vessel now 
became visible, but no signal from the 
fleet or Hazen. Half an hour passed, and 
the guns of the fort opened simultaneously 
with puffs of smoke that rose a few hun- 
dred yards from the fort, showing that 
Hazen's skirmishers had opened. A mo- 
ment after, Hazen signaled — 

"I have invested the fort, and will 
assault immediately." 

At this moment, Beckley announced a 
signal from the gun-boat. All eyes now 
turned from the fort to the gun-boat that 
was coming to their assistance with news 
from home. A few messages pass, which 
apprisj that Foster and Dahlgren are 



604 



SHERMAN'S MARCH THROUGH THE SOUTH. 



within speaking distance. The gun-boat 
now halts and asks — 

" Can we run up ? Is Fort McAllister 
ours . 

"No," is the reply; "Hazen is just 
i-eady to storm it. Can jou assist ? " 

" Yes," is the response ; " What will 
you have us do ? " 

But before Sherman can reply to Dahl- 
gren the thunders of the fort are heard, 
and the low sound of small arms is borne 
across the three miles of marsh and river. 
Field glasses are opened, and, sitting flat 
upon the roof, the hero of Atlanta gazes 
away off to the fort. " There they go 
grandly — not a waver," he remarks. 

Twenty seconds pass, and again he ex- 
claims — 

"See that flag in the advance, Howard; 
how steadily it moves; not a man falters. 
* * There they go still ; see the roll of 
musketry. Grand, grand ! " 

Still he strained his eyes, and a moment 
after spoke without looking up — 

" That flag still goes forward ; there is 
no flinching there." 

A pause for a minute. 

" Look ! " he exclaims, " it has halted. 
They waver — no, it's the parapet ! There 
they go again ; now they scale it ; some 
are over. Look ! There's a flag on the 
works! Another; another. It's ours. 
The fort's ours ! " 

The glass dropped by his side ; and in 
an instant the joy of the great leader at 
the possession of the river and the open- 
ing of the road to his new base burst forth 
in words — 

" As the old darkey remarked, dis chile 
don't sleep dis night ! " — and turning to 
one of his aids, he added, " Have a boat 
for me at once ; I must go there ! " — 
pointing to the fort from which half a 
dozen battle-flags floated grandly in the 
sunset. 

But this dramatic scene is thus graphi- 
, cally delineated by another correspondent, 
who brings the narrative down to the cul- 
minating and crowning event. The United 
States revenue cutter Nemaha, Lieutenant 
Warner, General Foster's flug-boat, left 



Hilton Head, on the morning of December 
12th, to go down the coast with General 
Foster and staff, to endeavor to open com- 
munication with General Sherman, going 
through to Fort Pulaski and thence 
through the marsh to Warsaw Sound, 
looking toward the main canal to discover 
some traces of Sherman's advance. None 
were observed, so Foster proceeded outside, 
and entered Ossabaw Sound, where the 
gun-boat Flag, on blockading dutj', was 
communicated with. Lieutenant Fisher 
was here left on board the Flag, to proceed 
with his party up the Ogeechee, and en- 
deavor to ='enal to Sherman, if he should 
approach the coast at that point. 

The Nemaha returned to Warsaw, and 
moved up the Wilmington river, anchor- 
ing just out of range of a confederate bat- 
terjf. During the night, rockets were 
thrown up by Captain Merrill, chief of ths 
signal corps, to announce his presence to 
General Sherman's signal officers, but 
elicited no response. 

Lieutenant Fisher was more successful. 
The Flag fired six guns in rapid succes- 
sion, from a heavy gun, as a signal, and 
then Lieutenant Fisher threw up several 
rockets and closely examined the horizon 
over the mainland for the response. At 
about three o'clock on the morning of the 
13th, after a rocket had been discharged 
from the Flag, a little stream of light was 
observed to shoot up in the direction of the 
Ogeechee, and quickly die away. Another 
rocket was immediately sent up from the 
flag-ship, and a second stream of light was 
seen in the same position as the first. It 
then became a question, whether or not 
they were confederate signals to deceive 
the federal officers. 

At about seven o'clock, the navy tug 
Dandelion, acting master Williams, took 
Lieutenant Fisher and his party, and Cap- 
tain Williamson, of the flag-ship, and pro- 
ceeded up the Ogeechee, to a jjoint within 
sight of Fort McAllister and the batteries 
on the Little Ogeechee. Here Lieutenant 
Fisher took a small boat and proceeded up 
as far as possible without drawing the 
enemy's fire. A careful reconnoissance 



SHERMAJST'S MARCH THROUGH THE SOUTH. 



G05 



was made of the fort and the surrounding 
woods, from which came the reports of 
musketry, and the attention of the garrison 
seemed to be directed inland entirely. A 
flag, which seemed like that of the Union, 
was seen flying from a house four miles off, 
and on more careful examination the stars 
were plainly visible, and all doubt of the 
character of the flag was at once removed. 
It was the flag that had floated over Gen- 
eral Howard's head-quarters at Atlanta, 
and now flamed out on. the sea-coast, 
within eight miles of the city of Savan- 
nah. Lieutenant Eisher at once returned 
to the tug, and moved up to an opening 
out of range of Fort McAllister, when, 
from the top of the pilot-house of the Dan- 
delion, the American flag could be dis- 
tinctly seen. A white signal flag was at 
once raised by Lieutenant Fisher, and at 
once a signal flag of like nature was waved, 
and communication opened. Lieutenant 
Eisher signaled — 

" Who are you ? " 

" McClintock, chief signal officer of 
General Howard," was signaled back. 

A message was at once sent to General 
Sherman, tendering all aid from General 
Eoster and Admiral Dahlgren. General 
Sherman then signaled that he was invest- 
ing Eort McAllister, and wanted to know 
if the boat could help with her heavy guns. 
Before any reply could be given, Sherman 
had signaled to Hazen, of the fifteenth 
corps, to take the fort immediately. In 
five minutes the rally had been sounded 
by the bugles. One volley of musketry 
was heard, and the next moment the three 
brigade flags of Hazen's troops were 
placed, almost simultaneously, on the par- 
apets of Fort McAllister. The fort was 
captured in twenty minutes after General 
Sherman's order to take it was given. 
Sherman then sent word that he would be 
down that night, and to look out for his 
boat. The tug immediately steamed down 
to Ossabaw Sound, to find General Foster 
or Admiral Dahlgren ; but they not being 
there, dispatches were sent to them at 
Warsaw, announcing General Sherman's 
intended visit, and the tug returned to its 



old position. While approaching the fort 
again a small boat was seen coming down. 
It was hailed with — 

"What boat is that ? " and the welcome 
response came back — 

" Sherman." 

It soon came alongside, and out of the 
little dug-out, paddled by two men, stepped 
General Sherman and General Howard, 
and stood on the deck of the Dandelion. 
The great leader was received with cheer 
after cheer. 

The city of Savannah, strongly fortified, 
and garrisoned bj- a large force under Gen- 
eral Hardee, was summoned, but surrender 
was refused. Preparations for assault 
were made, and, during the night of De- 
cember 20th, Hardee evacuated the city, 
and, with a large part of his garrison, 
escaped under cover of darkness. The 
union army soon after entered the city, 
and General Sherman thus announced 
to President Lincoln this splendid tri- 
umph : 

"/ beg to present you, as a Christmas 
gift, the city of Savannah, with 150 heavy 
guns, arid plenty of ammunition, and also 
about 25,000 bales of cotton." 

Waiting at Savannah only long enough 
to refit and recruit, Sherman again began 
a march which, for peril, labor, and results, 
will compare with any ever made by an 
organized army. The floods of the Savan- 
nah, the swamps of the Combahee and 
Edisto, the high hills and rocks of the 
Santee, the flat quagmires of the Pedee 
and Cape Fear rivers, were all passed in 
mid-winter, with its floods and rains, in 
the face of an accumulating enemy. 

On the morning of February 17th, Gen- 
eral Sherman entered Columbia, the capi- 
tal of South Carolina. In about a month 
froji this time, and after fighting battles 
at Averysboro' and Bentonville, he made 
a junction with General Terry's forces at 
Goldsboro', N. C, and from this point 
pushed onward to Raleigh, where, on the 
26th of April he received the surrender of 
the confederate army under Johnston, — the 
only remaining formidable confederate 
army in existence at that time east of the 



oou 



SHERMAN'S MARCH THROUGH THE SOUTH. 



Mississippi river, — thus virtually crushing 
the southern confederacy. Indeed, it was 
Sherman's intention not to stop short of 
Richmond, and only the great events con- 
summated a shoi't time previously at that 
important point, under Grant's masterly 
generalship, rendered this part of the pro- 
gramme unnecessary. 

At this time, the great warrior, as de- 
scribed by his accomplished aid-de-camp, 
Major Nichols, was in person nearly six 
feet in height, with a wiry, muscular, and 
not ungraceful frame. His age only forty- 
seven years, but his face furrowed with 
deep lines, indicating care and profound 
thought. With surprising rapidity, how- 
ever, these strong lines disappeared when 
he talked with women and children. His 
eyes dark brown, and sharp and quick in 
expression ; his forehead broad and fair, 
and sloping gently at the top of the head, 
the latter being covered with thick and 
light brown hair, closely trimmed ; his 
beard and moustache, of a sandy hue, 
were also closely cut. Of an iron consti- 
tution, exposure to cold, rain, or burning 
heat, seemed to produce no effect upon his 
powers of endurance and strength. Under 
the most haiassing conditions, he exhibited 



no signs of fatigue. When in the field he 
retired early, but at midnight he might be 
found pacing in front of his tent, or sitting 
b^' the camp-fire smoking his cigar. He 
would fall asleep as easily and as quickly 
as a little child, — by the roadside or upon 
wet ground, on the hard floor or when a 
battle stirred the scene ; but the galloping 
of a courier's horse down the road would 
instantly awaken him, as well as a voice 
or movement in his tent. As showing his 
thorough military spirit, it is related of 
him, that, before the fall of Atlanta, ho 
refused a commission of major-general in 
the regular army, saj'ing, " These positions 
of so much trust and honor should be held 
open until the close of the war. They 
should not be hastily given. Important 
campaigns are in operation. At the end, 
let those who prove their capacity and 
merit be the ones appointed to these high 
honors." The great captain was in a 
short time made lieutenant-general, and, 
subsequently, on the accession of General 
Grant to the presidency, he Decaue Gen- 
eral OF THE Army, — a military rank 
and title conferred only upon three per- 
sons, since the founding of the republic, 
namely, Washington, Grant, Sherman. 



LXXTII. 

FALL OF RICHMOND, VA., THE CONFEDERATE 
CAPITAL.— 1865. 



The Entrenched City Closely Encompassed for Months by Genpral Grant's Brave Legions and Walls of 
Steel. — Fliglit of Jefferson Davis, and Surrender of General Lee's Army — Overthrow of the Four 
Years' Gigantic Rebellion. — The jEgis and Starry Ensigns of the Republic Everywhere Dominant — 
Transports of Joy Fill the Land. — A Nation's Laurels Crown the Head of the Conqueror of Peace. 
— Memorable Day in Human Affairs. — Momentous Issues Involved. — Heavy Cost of this Triumph. 
— Without it, a Lost Republic. — Unequaled Valor Displayed. — Sherman's Grand Conceptions. — 
Sheridan's Splendid Generalship. — Onward March of Events. — Strategy, Battles, Victories. — Lee's 
Lines Fatally Broken. — Approach of the Final Crisis — Richmond Evacuated by Night. — Retreat 
of Lee: Vigorous Pursuit. — His Hopeless Resistance to Grant — Their Correspondence and Inter- 
view. — The Two Great Generals Face to Face.— What was Said and Done — Announcing the Result. 
— Parting of Lee with His Soldiers — President Lincoln's Visit to Richmond — Raising the United 
States Flag at Fort Sumter. — Davis a Prisoner in Fortress Monroe. 



'*lproDOde uflj^ht it oat oa thlB line, if it takea all summer."— Oenebal Gba^t's Dispatch rsou THE Field. 




OEy. GRAST STATING TERMS OF SURRENDER 



EEXES crossing the Hellespont with his miles of 
troops and flotilla, and over which vast concourse, 
he wept, it is said, as it passed in review, was not 
a more memorable illustration of the pomp and 
circumstance of war, than that wh.'ch was exhibit- 
ed in 1864 and 1865 by the Union army under Gen- 
eral Grant, which, like a wall of steel, beleaguer- 
ed the entrenched citj' of Richmond — the strong- 
hold of his country's foes, — and brought it, in 
April of the last-named year, to submission and 
surrender ; and with which event, the hosts that 
had been gathered by a powerful confederacy for 
the overthrow of the republic, melted away in 
defeat and disaster, the disunion chieftains became 
fugitives, and the long strife of arms ceased 
throughout the nation. This event has been justly 
characterized as far more momentous than any 
other that is likely to happen in our time, and 
which will always make 1865 one of the great 
years of history — putting it, in fact, in the same 
category with the first year of the Christian era, 

. the year in which Home was sacked, in which 



608 



FALL OF KICHMOND. 



Europe was saved from the Saracens, in 
wliich Luther began to preach the Reform- 
ation, in which Parliament drew the sword 
against Charles I., and in which the first 
shot was fired in the American Revolu- 
tion ; a year, in short, in which events 
marked the commencement of a new and 
important stage in human progress. 

That the foe thus vanquished was not 
an inferior one is shown by the single fact, 
— if by no other — as stated by one of the 
most reliable authorities in such matters, 
that, in the whole history of war, no city 
has been purchased by a conqueror at so 
heavy a price as it cost to take Richmond. 
Napoleon took Berlin, Vienna, and Mos- 
cow, each in a single campaign, and, when 
the scale of fortune turned, the Allies 
entered Paris in two successive years. 
Sebastopol resisted the English and French 
armies for thirteen or fourteen months, 
and four or five battles were fought in the 
hope of raising the siege. For nearly 
four years, Richmond was the principal 
object of siege and attack by the union 
armies, and probably half a million of men 
were at different times employed in at- 
tempting its conquest. After the disas- 
ter at Bull Run had shown the federal 
government the deficiencies of its military 
organization. General McClellan command- 
ed an army of not far from two hundred 
thousand men on the Potomac, and he land- 
ed more than half the number in the Pe- 
ninsula, while his colleagues defended the 
approaches of Washington. The losses of 
the union army in the disastrous campaign 
of the Chickahominy, and in the subsequent 
defeat of General Pope, were variously 
estimated from fifty thousand all the way 
up to one hundred thousand men. Burn- 
side's loss, in his attack upon the heights 
of Fredericksburg, was not far from fifteen 
thousand men, and about the same result 
attended the struggle between Generals 
Lee and Hooker, in 1863. The magnifi- 
cent union victory at Gettysburg, involv- 
ing so great a loss of life, was included in 
the same campaign. It was not till the 
earl}' summer of 1864, that General Grant 
commenced his final advance upon Rich- 



mond, and the battles which ensued in the 
Shenandoah and in the neighborhood of 
Petersburg, added largelj' to the record of 
bloodshed. Great and most precious, how- 
ever, as was the cost of final victory to the 
union army, its final defeat instead would 
have been at the cost of the existence of 
the Republic ! 

The splendid military conceptions of 
General Sherman, and their perfect execu 
tion, had much to do with hastening the 
downfall of Richmond and the collapse of 
the southern confederac}-, nor can the brave 
and effective movement of General Sheri- 
dan in the same relation be too highly 
eulogized by his countrjmen. Of the lat- 
ter general's services, at this most excit- 
ing and momentous crisis. General Grant 
says : " During the 30th, (March, 1865.'> 
Sheridan advanced from Dinwiddie Court- 
House towards Five Forks, where he found 
the enemy in force. General Warren 
advanced and extended his line across the 
Boydton plank road to near the White 
Oak road, with a view of getting across 
the latter ; but finding the enemy strong 
in his front, and extending beyond his left, 
was directed to hold on where he was and 
fortify. General Humphreys drove the 
enemy from his front into his main line on 
the Hatcher, near Burgess's mills. Gen- 
erals Ord, Wright, and Parke, made exam- 
inations in their fronts to determine the 
feasibility of an assault on the enemy's 
lines. The two latter reported favorably. 
The enemy confronting us, as he did, at 
every point from Richmond to our extreme 
left, I conceived his lines must be weakly 
held, and could be penetrated if my esti- 
mate of his forces was correct. I deter- 
mined, therefore, to extend my line no 
further, but to re-enforce General Sheri- 
dan with a corps of infantrj', and thus ena- 
ble him to cut loose and turn the enemy's 
right flank, and with the other corps as- 
sault the enemy's lines." 

With what soldierly gallantry Sheridan 
and his colleagues fulfilled the parts as- 
signed them by their superior, is thus 
related by the latter. " On the morning 
of the 31st, General Warren reported fa- 



FALL OF RICHMOND. 



609 



vorably to getting possession of the White 
Oak road, and was directed to do so. To 
accomplish this, he moved with one divis- 
ion, instead of his wliole corps, which was 
attacked by the enemy in superior force 
and driven back on the second division 
before it had time to form, and it, in turn, 
forced back upon the third division, 
when the enemy was checked. A divis- 
ion of the second corps was immedi- 
ately sent to his support, the enemy driven 
back with heavy loss, and possession of 
the White Oak road gained. Sheridan 
advanced, and with a portion of his cavalry 
got possession of the Fi%'e Forks, but the 
enemy, after the affair with the fifth corps, 
re-enforced the rebel cavalry, defending 
that point with infantry, and forced him 
back towards Dinwiddle Court-House. 
Here General Sheridan displayed great 
generalship. Instead of retreating with 
his whole command on the main army, to 
tell the story of superior forces encount- 
ered, he deploj-ed his cavalry on foot, leav- 
ing only mounted men enough to take 
charge of the horses. This compelled the 
enemy to deploy over a vast extent of 
woods and broken country, and made his 
progress slow. At this juncture, he dis- 
patched to me what had taken place, and 
that he was dropping back slowly on Din- 
widdle Court-House." Never was the trib- 
ute of praise more worthily bestowed, 
than this by the greatest of American 
heroes upon General Sheridan. 

But still more important events were 
hastening. "On the morning of the 1st 
of April," says General Grant, " General 
Sheridan, re-enforced by General Warren, 
drove the enemy back on Five Forks, 
where, late m the evening, he assaulted 
and carried his strongly fortified position, 
capturing all his artillery, and between 
five and six thousand prisoners. About 
the close of this battle. Brevet Major- 
General Charles Griffin relieved Major- 
Geueral Warren, in command of the fifth 
corps. The report of this reached me after 
nightfall. Some apprehensions filled my 
mind lest the enemy might desert his lines 
during the night, and by falling upon 

39 



General Sheridan before assistance could 
reach him, drive him from his position 
and open the way for retreat. To guard 
against this. General Miles's division of 
Humphrey's corps was sent to re-enforce 
him, and a bombardment was commenced 
and kept up until four o'clock in the morn- 
ing, April 2d, when an assault was ordered 
on the enemy's lines. General Wright 
penetrated the lines with his whole corps, 
sweeping ever3'thing before him and to 
the left towards Hatcher's Run, capturing 
many guns and several thousand prisoners. 
He was closely followed by two divisions 
of General Ord's command, until he met 
the other division of General Ord's that 
had succeeded in forcing the enemy's lines 
near Hatcher's Run. Generals Wright 
and Ord immediately swung to the right, 
and closed all of the enemy on that side of 
them in Petersburg, while General Hum- 
phreys pushed forward with two divisions 
and joined General Wright on the left. 
General Parke succeeded in carrying the 
enemy's main line, capturing guns and 
prisoners, but was unable to carry his 
inner line. General Sheridan being advised 
of the condition of affairs, returned Gen- 
eral Miles to his proper command. On 
reaching the enemy's lines immediately 
surrounding Petersburg, a portion of Gen- 
eral Gibbon's corps, by a most gallant 
charge, captured two strong, enclosed works 
— the most salient and commanding south 
of Petersburg — thus materially shortening 
the line of investment necessary for tak- 
ing in the city. The enemy south of 
Hatcher's Run retreated westward to 
Sutherland's station, where they were 
overtaken by Miles's division. A severe 
engagement ensued and lasted until both 
his right and left flanks were threatened 
by the approach of General Sheridan, who 
was moving from Ford's station towards 
Petersburg, and a division sent by Gen- 
eral Meade from the front of Petersburg, 
when he broke in the utmost confusion, 
leaving in our hands his guns and many 
pDsoners. This force retreated by the 
main road along the Appomattox river. 
During the night of the second, the enemy 



610 



FALL OF RICHiMOND. 




FALL OF RICHMOND. 



611 



evacuated Petershiirg and Richmond, and 
retreated toward Danville. On the morn- 
ing of the 3d, pursuit was commenced. 
General Sheridan pushed for the Danville 
road, keeping near the Appomattox, fol- 
lowed by General Meade with the second 
and sixth corps, while General Ord moved 
lor Burkesville along the South Side road, 
the ninth corps stretched along that road 
behind him," — these combined movements 
being made with such rapidity and effec- 
tiveness, that Lee's army could have no 
expectation of escape founded upon any 
reasonable probability. 

By the night of Tuesday, April 4th, 
Sheridan and the fifth corps had, by a 
march of thirty-six miles, gained a position 
west of Lee, near Jettersville, on the road 
to Burkesville. This movement resulted 
the next day in the capture of a train of 
three hundred wagons, with five cannon 
and a thousand prisoners. On Wednes- 
day, Grant, with the twentj'-fourth corps, 
had reached Nottoway Court-House, and 
there learned by a dispatch from Sheridan 
that Lee had been intercepted. On Thurs- 
day, Grant had brought his army up to 
Sheridan's support, and with the second, 
fifth, and sixth corps, lay in line of battle 
at Burke's Station, facing to the north 
and east, and cutting Lee off from Dan- 
ville. Lee then tried to move on toward 
Lynchburg, by taking a circuitous route 
by way of Deatonsville, toward the Appo- 
mattox, which he hoped to cross, and, with 
the river between him and Grant, secure 
his retreat. Lee was compelled to fight 
at DeatonsviUe, where he was defeated, 
his loss amounting to thirteen thousand 
prisoners, including Lieutenant-General 
Ewell and Major-Generals Custis Lee, 
Kershaw, Corse, DeBarry, Anderson, Hun- 
ton, and Barton. Fourteen cannon were 
also taken, and several hundred wagons. 

On Friday, April 7th, Grant wyote briefly 
to Lee, asking him to surrender " that 
portion of the Confederate States army 
known as the Armj- of Northern Virginia." 
He said : " The result of last week must 
convince you of the hopelessness of further 
resistance on the part of the army of 



Northern Virginia in this struggle." Lee 
replied the same day, saying that though 
he was not entirely of Grant's opin- 
ion as to the hopelessness of further 
resistance, he reciprocated the desire to 
avoid useless effusion of blood, and asked 
upon what terms Grant would accept the 
surrender. On tbe 8th, Grant again wrote, 
declaring that he should insist upon but 
one condition, namely : " That the men 
surrendered shall be disqualified for taking 
up arms again against the government of the 
United States until properly exchanged." 
To this, Lee replied that he did not think 
the emergency had arisen to call for the 
surrender, but desired an interview at ten 
o'clock the next day, on the old stage 
road to Richmond, in respect to the restor- 
ation of peace. On the ninth. Grant 
wrote that he had no authority to grant 
such an interview. He said : " The 
terms upon which peace can be had are 
well understood. By the South laying 
down their arms they will hasten that 
most desirable event, save thousands of 
human lives and hundreds of millions ol 
property not yet destroyed." 

In taking the ground that he did in this 
correspondence, Grant acted expressly 
in accordance with the views entertained 
by his superiors at Washington. It ap- 
pears that among the dispatches which 
Grant had sent to the president, about 
this time, was one in which he spoke of an 
application to be made by Lee for an 
interview to negotiate about peace. Mr. 
Lincoln intimated pretty clearly an inten- 
tion to permit extremely favorable terms, 
and to let his general-in-chief settle them ; 
and this even to an extent that overpow- 
ered the reticent habits of his secretary of 
war, who, after restraining himself as long 
as he could, broke out sternly, saying — 

" Mr. President, to-morrow is inaugura- 
tion day If you are not to be the presi- 
dent of an obedient and united people, you 
had better not be inaugurated. Your 
work is already done, if any other author- 
ity than yours is for one moment to be 
recognized, or any terms made that do not 
signify that you are the supreme head of 



6j2 



FALL OF RICHMOND. 



the nation. If generals in the field are 
to negotiate j)eace, or any other chief 
magistrate is to be acknowledged on the 
continent, then you are not needed, and 
you had better not take the oath of office." 

"Stanton,'' said the president — his 
whole tone changing, " you are right. Let 
ine have a pen." 

Mr. Lincoln sat down at the table and 
wrote as follows : 

" The President directs me to say to 
\ ou that he wishes you to have no confer- 
ence with General Lee, unless it be for 
the capitulation of Lee's army, or on some 
minor or purely military matter. He 
instructs me to say that you are not to 
decide, discuss, or confer on any political 
question ; such questions the president 
holds in his own hands, and will submit 
them to no militar3- conferences or conven- 
tions. In the meantime, you are to press 
to the utmost your military advantages." 

The president now read over what he 
had written, and then said — 

" Now, Stanton, date and sign this jjaper, 
and send it to Grant. We '11 see about 
this peace business." 

Grant's note declining any interview to 
consider terras of peace was received 
l)y Lee on the spot which he had desig- 
nated for the meeting. Ou receipt of this, 
Lee at once dispatched another note, 
requesting a personal interview for the 
object named in Grant's previous commun- 
ication — the surrender of Lee's army. A 
flag of truce proceeded to Appomattox 
Court-House shortly after noon, and at 
aliout two o'clock the two generals met at 
the house of Mr. W. McLean. Gener.al 
Lee was attended bj' General Marshall, his 
adjutant-general ; General Grant, by Colo- 
nel Parker, one of his chief aids-de-camp. 
General Grant arrived about fifteen min- 
utes later than General Lee, and entered 
the parlor where the latter was awaiting 
him. 

The two generals greeted each other 
with dignified courtesy, and after a few 
moments conversation, proceeded to the 
business before them. Lee immediately 
alluded to the conditions named by General 



Grant for the surrender, characterized 
them as exceedingly lenient, and said he 
would gladly leave all the details to Gen- 
eral Grant's own discretion. Of this inter- 
view. General Grant himself gave the 
following interesting account to some 
friends, at a private dinner-party in Wash- 
ington : 

" I felt some embarrassment in the pros- 
pect of meeting General Lee. I had not 
seen him since he was General Scott's 
chief-of-staff in Mexico ; and in addition to 
the respect I entertained for him, the 
duty which I had to perform was a dis- 
agreeable one, and I wished to get through 
it as soon as possible. When I reached 
Appomattox Court-House, I had ridden 
that morning thirty-seven miles. I was 
in my campaign clothes, covered with dust 
and mud ; I had no sword ; I was not even 
well mounted, for I rode (turning to Gen- 
eral Ingals, who was present,) one of 
Ingals's horses. I found General Lee in a 
fresh suit of confederate gray, with all the 
insignia of his rank, and at his side the 
splendid dress-sword which had been given 
him by the state of Virginia. We shook 
hands. He was exceedingly courteous in 
his address, and we seated ourselves at a 
deal table in Mr. McLean's front room. 
We talked of two of the conditions of sur- 
render, which had been left open bj' our 
previous correspondence, one of which re- 
lated to the ceremonies which were to be 
observed on the occasion ; and when I dis- 
claimed any desire to have any parade, 
but said I should be contented with the 
delivery of arms to my officers, and with 
the proper signature and authentication of 
paroles, he seemed to be greatly pleased. 
When I yielded the other point, that the 
officers should retain their side arms and 
private baggage and horses, his emotions 
of satisfaction were plainly visible. We 
soon reduced the terms to writing. We 
parted with the same courtesies with which 
we had met. It seemed to me that Gen- 
eral Lee evinced a feeling of satisfaction 
and relief when the business was finished. 
I immediately mounted Ingals's horse, re- 
turned to General Sheridan's head-quarters, 



FALL OF RICHMOND. 



613 



and did not again present myself to the 
confederate commander." 

The house in which this most memora- 
ble interview took place was a comfortable 
and well-built double brick house, with a 
small green lawn in front. The occupant, 
Mr. McLean, lived in 1861 at Bull Run, 
and owned the farm on which the first 
and famous Bull Run battle was fought. 
It was in consequence of the disturbed 
state of the country and the annoyances 
to which he was subjected, that he aban- 
doned his place, and took refuge in the 
distant town of Appomattox. Here he 
purchased some land and settled quietly 
down, as he thought, beyond the tide of 
war. But fate followed him ; for, about 
four years after he left the Bull Run farm, 
the southern army was surrounded at 
Appomattox, and the last battle as well as 
the first was fought on his farm ! The 
large marble-topped center table, on which 
the two generals signed the minutes, was 
of a somewhat antiquated style, and was 
afterwards purchased by General Ord for 
fifty dollars. General Custer purchased 
the other table, of small size, on which the 
documents were prepared, for twenty-five 
dollars. 

After the interview. General Lee re- 
turned to his own camp, about half a mile 
distant, where his leading oflScers were 
assembled, awaiting his return. He an- 
nounced the result and the terms, where- 
upon they expressed great satisfaction at 
the liberal conditions. They then ap- 
proached him in order of rank, shook 
hands, and assured him of their approval 
of his course, and their regret at parting. 
The fact of surrender and the easy terms 
were then announced to the troops, and 
when General Lee appeared among them 
he was loudly cheered. 

Immediately after the evacuation of 
Richmond, General Weitzel, with the 
second brigade of the third division of the 
twentj'-fourth army corps, entered the city 
and took possession, hoisting the United 
States flag at every prominent point, and 
on the next day President Lincoln visited 
the fallen capitaL His appearance was 



greeted with tumultuous cheering, though 
he came with no pomp of attendiince or 
surroundings, and totally unheralded. He 
arrived in a United States war vessel, 
early in the afternoon, at the landing 
called the Rocketts, about a mile below 
the city, and thence, accompanied by his 
young son and Admiral Porter, went to 
the city in a boat. Mr. C. C. Coffin, 
(" Carleton,") the accomplished corre- 
spondent of the Boston Journal, in giving 
an account of this presidential visit, says 
that somehow the negroes on the bank of 
the river ascertained that the tall man 
wearing a black hat was President Lin- 
coln. Th.ere was a sudden shout. An 
ofiicer who had just picked up fifty negroes 
to do work on the dock, found himself 
alone. They left work, and crowded 
around the president. As he approached, 
I said to a colored woman, — 

" There is the man who mado you free." 

" What, massa ? " 

" That is President Lincoln." 

" Dat President Linkum ?" 

« Yes." 

She gazed at him a moment, clapped 
her hands, and jumped straight up and 
down, shouting " Glory, glorj', glory !" till 
her voice was lost in the universal 
cheer. 

There was no carriage near, so the presi- 
dent, leading his son, walked three-quarters 
of a mile up to General Weitzel's head- 
quarters — Jefferson Davis's presidentiul 
mansion. A colored man acted as guide. 
Six sailors, wearing their round blue caps 
and short jackets and bagging pants, with 
navy carbines, were the advance guard. 
Then came the president and Admiral 
Porter, flanked by the officers accompan}'- 
ing him, and the correspondent of the 
Boston Journal, then six more sailors with 
carbines, — amid a surging mass of men, 
women, and children, black, white, and 
yellow, running, shouting, and dancing, 
swinging their caps, bonnets and hand- 
kerchiefs. The soldiers saw him and 
swelled the crowd, cheering in wild enthu- 
siasm. All could see him, he was so tall, 
so conspicuous. 



614 



FALL OF EICHMOND. 



One colored woman, standing in a door- 
way, a8 the president passed along the 
sidewalk, shouted, " Thank you, dear 
Jesus, for this ! thank you, Jesus ! " 
Another, standing by her side, was clap- 
ping her hands and shouting, " Bless de 
Lord ! " A colored woman snatched her 
bonnet from her head, whirled it in the 
air, and screamed with all her might, 
" God bless }'ou, Massa Linkum ! " 

President Lincoln walked in silence, 
acknowledging the salutes of oiScers and 
f-oldiers, and of the citizens, black and 
white. It was the man of the people 
among the people. It was the greft de- 
liverer among the delivered. General 
Shepley met the president in the street, 
and escorted him to General Weitzel's 
quarters. Major Stevens, hearing that 
the president was on his way, suddenly 
summoned a detachment of Massachusetts 
cavalry, and cleared the way. After a 
tedious walk, the mansion of Mr. Davis 
was reached. The immense crowd swept 
round the corner of the street and packed 
the space in front. General Weitzel 
received the president at the door. Cheer 
upon cheer went up from the excited mul- 
titude, two-thirds of whom were colored. 
The officers who had assembled were 
presented to the president in the reception 
room, and then citizens innumerable paid 
him their respects; after which the presi- 
dent took a ride through the city, accom- 
panied by Admiral Porter, Generals Shep- 
Jey and Weitzel, and others. 

All this took place only a few hours 
sifter the flight of Davis. Early in the 
forenoon of that eventful Sunday, Lee tel- 
egraphed to his chief, that his lines had 
been broken in three places and that Rich- 
mond must be evacuated in the evening. 
This message was delivered to Davis at 
eleven o'clock, while he was in church. 
He immediately left, and, arranging his 
affairs as well as time would permit, pro- 
ceeded with his cabinet to Danville. Pol- 
lard, the historian of the southern cause, 
states that the rumor was caught up in 
the streets that Richmond was to be evac- 
uated, and was soon carried to the ends 



of the city. Men, women, and children, 
rushed from the churches, passing from 
lip to lip news of the impending fall. It 
was late in the afternoon when the signs 
of evacuation became apparent to the in- 
credulous. Wagons on the streets were 
being hastily loaded at the departments 
with boxes, trunks, etc., and driven to the 
Danville depot. Those who had deter- 
mined to evacuate with the fugitive govern- 
ment looked on with amazement; then, 
convinced of the fact, rushed to follow the 
government's example. Vehicles suddenly 
rose to a premium value that was astound- 
ing. All over the city it was the same — 
wagons, trunks, boxes, bundles, and their 
hurrying owners, filling the streets. By 
order of the military authorities, all the 
spirituous liquor in the city was destroyed, 
but some of it was seized and used by the 
straggling soldiery, who thereupon commit- 
ted the grossest excesses. The great 
tobacco warehouses were also, by mili- 
tary order, set on fire, as were also the 
various bridges leading out of the city, 
and the rams in James river were blown 
up. The whole scene was awful in the 
extreme. 

At Danville, Davis set up the form and 
machinery of his government, issuing at 
once a stirring address, in which he said : 
" We have now entered upon a new phase 
of the struggle. Relieved from the neces- 
sity of guarding particular points, our 
army will be free to move from point to 
point, to strike the enemy in detail far 
from his base." Waiting here, in expect- 
ation of Lee's arrival with his army, the 
news of the surrender of the latter reached 
him on the 10th of April. Dismayed at 
the tidings, Davis hastil}' made his escape 
to Greensboro, N. C, and afterwards, with 
various baitings, to Charlotte, N. C, and 
thence to Washington and Irwinsville, 
Ga., where he was captured. May 11th, by 
the union cavalry, and carried, a prisoner, 
to Fortress Monroe. This was, in form, 
the close of the war. General Johnston 
surrendered his army at Raleigh, N. C, 
April 26th, to General Sherman. Gener.il 
Howell Cobb, with his militia and fiva 



TALL OF EICHMOND. 



610 



generals, surrendered to General Wilson, 
at Macon, Ga., Ajiril 20th. Gen. Dick 
Taylor surrendered all the remaining con- 
federate forces east of the Mississippi to 
General Canby, May 14th ; and, on the 
26th of the same month, Gen. Kirby Smith 
surrendered his entire command, west of 
the Mississippi, to the same oiBcer. On 
the 14th of April, — just four years from 
the memorable bombardment and evacua- 
tion, — the flag of the United States was 
planted again upon Fort Sumter, under 
the orders of the president, by the hands 
of General Anderson, its commander in 
April, 1861. 

The close of this mi-ghty struggle, assur- 
ing the world of the continued nationality 
of the American Union, filled the land 
with such transports and demonstrations 
of joy as were never before known among 
any people ; and the laurels of the nation 
covered the brow of Grant, the hero of 
mighty battles — the Conqueror of Peace. 
By special act of congress, the full and 
supreme rank of General — a title never 
worn by a United States commander since 
the days of the illustrious Washington, — 
was revived and conferred upon Grant ; 
and, as the highest honor in the gift of 
hia countrymen, he was in 1SG9 transfer- 
red from the command of the army to the 
exalted position of President of the United 
States, in which station he remained eight 
years. 

One event, in especial, among the clus- 
ter just named in connection with the 
closing scenes of the Great Conflict, de- 
serves more than a passing mention here, 
namely, the He-possession of Fort Sumter, 
and the restoration to its original place on 
that historic spot, by General Anderson, of 
the identical JIaf; which, after an honora- 
ble and gallant defense, he was compelled 
to lower in April, 1861. 

This ceremony of re-occupation took 
place, as ordered by President Lincoln, on 
Friday, April 14th, 1865, in presence of 
several thousands of spectators. Among 
the company were Generals Gillmore, Dix, 
Washburne, Doubleday, Anderson, Dela- 
field, Grover, Hatch, and Saxton, Eev. 



Henry Ward Beecher, William Lloyd 
Garrison, George Thompson, Assistant Sec- 
retary Fox, of the Navy Department, 
Professor Davis, and some two hundred 
oiScers of the navy. The spectators were 
conveyed from Charleston to the fort by 
steamers, and the ceremonies were ushered 
in at noon with a song and chorus entitled 
' Victory at Last.' 

Prayer was now offered by Rev. Mat- 
thias Harris, chaplain United States Army, 
who made the prayer at the raising of 
the flag when Major Anderson suddenly 
removed his command from Fort Moultrie 
to Fort Sumter, December 27th, 1860. 
Eev. Dr. Storrs, of Brooklyn, then read 
selections of scripture, after which, Adju- 
tant-General Townsend read Major Ander- 
son's dispatch, dated steamship Baltic, ofi 
Sandy Hook, April 18th, 1861, announcing 
the fall of Fort Sumter. 

Major-General Anderson and Sergeant 
Hart then stepped forward on the platform 
and unfurled the glorious old banner, amid 
the deafening cheers of the assemblage. 
As they raised the flag, with an evergreen 
wreath attached, the occupants on the 
stage all joined in taking hold of the hal- 
yards. The scene of rejoicing that fol- 
lowed, as the flag reached the top of the 
staff, was indescribable. The enthusiasm 
was unbounded. There was a simultane- 
ous rising, cheering, and waving of hats 
and handkerchiefs, for fully fifteen minutes. 
As the starry emblem floated out grace- 
fully to the strong breeze, the joyful dem- 
onstrations were repeated, which were 
responded to by music from the bands, a 
salute of one hundred guns at Fort Sumter, 
and a national salute from every fort and 
battery that fired upon Sumter in April, 
1861. When this was over, General Ander- 
son came forward and said — 

"I am here, friends and fellow-citizens, 
and brother soldiers, to perform an act of 
duty which is dear to my heart, and which 
all of you present appreciate and feel. Did 
I listen to the promptings of my own 
heart, I would not attempt to speak ; but 
I have been desired by the secretary of 
war to make a few remarks. By the con- 



616 



FALL OF RICHMOND. 



siderate appointment of the honored secre- 
tary of war to fulfill the cherished wish of 
nj}' heart through four long years of bloody 
war — to restore to its proper place this 
very flag which floated here during peace, 
before the first act of this cruel rebellion 
— I thank God I have lived to see this 
day, to be here to perform this, perhaps 
the last act of duty to my country in this 
life. My heart is filled with gratitude to 
Almighty God for the signal blessings he 
has given us — blessings beyond number. 
May all the world proclaim ' Glory to God 



in the highest ; on earth, peace and good 
will toward men.' " 

The 'Star Spangled Banner' was then 
sung by the whole audience, with great 
feeling and effect ; after which, Eev. 
Henry Ward Beecher delivered a com- 
memorative oration of great eloquence and 
power. The doxology, with devotional 
services, closed the public exercises of the 
day ; and, with cheers for President Lin- 
coln, the old Flag, the Union, Generals 
Grant, Sherman, and ethers, the vast mul- 
titudb separated. 



LXXIV. 

ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN, AT FORD'S 

THEATER, WASHINGTON, BY J. WILKES 

BOOTH.— 1865. 



Conspiracy to Murder, Simultaneously, all the Chief Officers of the Government — The Most Exalted 
and Beloved of Mortal Rulers Falls a Victim. — A Universal Wail of Anguish and Lamentation 
Poured Forth from the National Heart. — Darkest Page in the History of the '"ountry — Funeral Cor- 
tege Through Fifteen States. — Tragical Fate of the Conspirators. — Ohject of this Most Infamous of 
Crimes — Singular Time of its Perpetration. — Virtual End of the Great Civil War — Dawn of I'eace : 
Universal Joy. — President Lincoln's Hanny Frame of Mind. — How He Passed His Last Day. — Con- 
versations on the Kvening of April Hth. — .Makes an Engagement for the Morrow — Last Time He 
Signed His Name. — Keluctantly Goes to the Theater. — Arrives Late : Immense Audience — Plans and 
Movements of Booth, the Assassin. — The Fatal Shot : A Tragedy of Horrors — Removal of the Presi- 
dent to a Private House. — Speechless and Unconscious to the End — Death-Bed Scenes and Incidents. 
— The Nation Stunned at the Appalling News. — Its Reception at the South, and by General Lee. 

_ — A Continent in Tears and Mourning. — Most 

-^_ __ _ Imposing Obsequies Ever Known — Booth's Switt 

S&'-^j-^ and Bloody End.— Trial of His Male and Female 
•^ "^ Accomplices. 




— *■ Mnum ve for him ? let him be reaarded 
A^ the mnsl noble coree Uiat ever herald 
Uid loliow to his urn." 



MR. LINC(;)LN S E.\RLV HOME. 



EVIEWING the great procession of events 
■n-liich distinguish the ninety years cov- 
ered by our national existence, up to the 
present time, there is, confessedly, none 
of the many during that period, which 
shows so dark and terrihle a page, — none which so paralyzed the heart of the nation, or 
sent sucli a thrill of agony through the four continents of the globe, causing world-wide 
sorrow and lamentation, — as the assassination of Abraham Lincoln, president of the 
United States, by John Wilkes Booth, at Ford's Theater, in the capital of the nation, 
on the night of April 14th, 1865. .And this bloody deed was but one act in the diabol- 
ical conspiracy which contemplated the simultaneous murder of the chief ofiScers of 
state, at the federal capital, to the end that panic might there seize upon the govern- 
ment and nation, and treason and anarchy assert their sway over a republic in ruins. 

And yet, the time chosen for this most appalling conspiracy was that which was 
marked by the virtual close of the great war which for four long years had filled the 
land with carnage and death ; the prowess of General Grant had shattered the plans of 
the ablest military chieftains of the south : General Sherman had consummated his 
grand march from Atlanta to Savannah, and thence through South Carolina ; all the 



618 



ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN. 



chief cities of the south \yere occupied by 
the union forces ; Lee had surrendered 
his sword, and President Lincoln had just 
visited the city of Richmond, so recently 
the confederate stronghold ; and Jefferson 
Davis was a fugitive, who had then barely 
escaped capture. The demonstrations of 
joy at the now certain conclusion of hostil- 
ities, and the dawn of peace, were univer- 
sal ; and by no one, in all the land, was 
this joy shared so fully as by President 
Lincoln. 

Of the president's happy frame of mind, 
now that victory had everywhere crowned 
the federal arms, and he was entering on 




FORD 8 THKATElt, IX WASHINGTOK. 

his second presidential term under the 
auspices of prospective peace, something 
may be judged by the incidents repre- 
sented to have transpired in connection 
with his private and personal intercourse, 
during the last day of his life. On the 
morning of that fatal day, Captain Robert 
Lincoln, son of the president, and who had 
just returned from the capitulation of Gen- 
eral Lee, breakfasted with his father, and 
the president passed a happy hour listen- 
ing to all the details. While thus at 
breakfast, he heard that Speaker Colfax 
was in the house, and sent word that he 
wished to see him immediately in the 



reception room. He conversed with him 
nearly an hour, on his future policy as to 
the south, which he was about to submit 
to the cabinet. Afterwards he had an 
interview with Mr. Hale, minister to Spain, 
and with several senators and representa- 
tives. At eleven o'clock, the cabinet and 
General Grant met with him, and, in one 
of the most important and satisfactory 
cabinet sessions held since his first inau- 
guration, the future policy of the adminis- 
tration was harmoniously and unanimously 
agreed on. Secretary Stanton remarking 
that he felt that the government was 
stronger than at any previous period since 
the rebellion commenced. Turning to 
General Grant, Mr. Lincoln asked him if 
he had heard from General Sherman. 
General Grant replied that he had not, but 
was in hourly expectation of receiving dis- 
patches from him announcing the sur- 
render of Johnston. The president re- 
plied : 

" Well, you will hear very soon, and the 
news will be important." 

" Why do you think so ? " inquired 
General Grant, somewhat in a curious 
mood. 

" Because," said Mr. Lincoln, " I had a 
dream, last night, and, ever since the war 
began, I have invariably had the same 
dream before any very important military 
event has occurred." He then instanced 
Bull Run, Antietam, Gettysburg, etc., and 
said that before each of those events he 
had had the same dream, and, turning to 
Secretary Welles, continued, " It is in 
your line, too, Mr. Welles. The dream is, 
that I saw a ship sailing very rapidly, and 
I am sure that it portends some important 
national event." 

In the afternoon, the president had a 
long and pleasant interview with General 
Oglesby, Senator Yates, and other leading 
citizens of Illinois. 

At about half-past seven o'clock in the 
evening, Hon. George Ashmun, of Massa- 
chusetts, who presided over the Chicago 
Convention in 1860, called at the White 
House, and was ushered into the parlor, 
where Mr. Colfax was seated, waiting for 



ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN. 



619 



an interview with the president, on busi- 
ness which liad a bearing on his proposed 
overland trip. A few moments elapsed, 
when President Lincoln entered the room, 
and engaged in conversation upon various 
matters, appearing to be in a very happy 
and jovial frame of mind. He spoke of 
his visit to Richmond, and when they 
stated that there was much uneasiness at 
the north while he was in that city, for 
fear that he might be shot, he replied, 
jocularly, that he would have been alarmed 
himself if any other person had been pres- 
ident and gone there, but that personally 
he did not feel any danger whatever. 
Conversing on a matter of business with 
Mr. Ashmun, he made a remark that he 
saw Mr. Ashmun was surprised at, and, 
though not very important, he immediately 
said, with his well-known kindness of 
heart, — 

" You did not understand me, Ashmun. 
I did not mean what you inferred, and I 
take it all back and apologize for it." 

Mr. Ashmun desiring to see him again, 
and there being no time to attend to it 
then, the president took out a card, and 
placing it on his knee, wrote as follows : 

" Allow Mr. Ashmun and friend to come 
to me at nine A. M., to-morrow. 

April 14, '65. A. Lincoln." 

These were the last words that he 
penned. It was the last time that he 
signed his name to any order, document or 
message. The last words written by him 
were thus making an engagement for the 
morrow — an engagement which he was not 
allowed to meet. Before the hour had 
arrived he was no more. After sicninfr 
the card, he said, humorously, to Mr. 
Colfax, — 

"Mr. Sumner has the gavel of the Con- 
federate Congress, which he got at Rich- 
mond, to hand to the secretary of war ; but 
I insisted then that he must give it to you, 
and j'ou tell him for me to hand it over." 

Mr. Ashmun here pleasantly alluded to 
the gavel which he himself still had — the 
same one he had used when presiding over 
the Chicago Nominating Convention of 
1860. 



President Lincoln finally stated that he 
must go 1o the theater, and, saying, " You 
are going with Mrs. Lincoln and me to the 
theater, I hope," warmly pressed Speaker 
Colfax and Mr. Ashmun to accompany 
them, but they excused themselves on the 
score of previous engagements. It was 
now half an hour after the time when they 
had intended to start, and they spoke 
about waiting half an hour longer, — the 
president going with reluctance, as Gen- 
eral Grant had that evening gone north, 
and Mr. Lincoln did not wish the people 
to be disappointed, it having been an- 
nounced in the afternoon papers that the 
president, Mrs. Lincoln, and General 
Grant, would attend the theater that even- 
ing, to witness the representation of the 
"American Cousin." At the door, Mr. 
Lincoln stopped and said, — 

" Colfax, do not forget to tell the people 
in the mining regions, as you pass through 
them, what I told you this morning about 
the development when peace comes, and I 
will telegraph you at San Francisco." 

Starting for the carriage, Mrs. Lincoln 
took the arm of Mr. Ashmun, and the 
president and Mr. Colfax walked together. 
As soon as the president and Mrs. Lincoln 
were seated in the carriage, Mrs. Lincoln 
gave orders to the coachman to drive 
around to Senator Harris's residence, for 
Miss Harris. As the carriage rolled 
away, they both said '' Good-b}-, — Good- 
by," to Messrs. Ashmun and Colfax. A 
few moments later, and the presidential 
party of four persons, namely, the presi- 
dent and Mrs. Lincoln, Miss Harris, and 
Major Rathbone, arrived at the theater 
and entered the front and left-hand upper 
private box. 

The deeply-laid plan of Booth to murder 
the president was soon to culminate in 
horrid and fatal execution. According to 
the very reliable account given by the 
Hon. H. J. Raymond, in his biography of 
the martyred president, and in which 
account there is exhibited the most pains- 
taking synopsis of the accumulated evi- 
dence concerning Booth's movements, the 
murderer made his appearance at fifteen 



620 



ASSASSIN ATIOX OF PEESIDEI^T LINCOLN. 




THE ASSASSIXATIuN OF PItESU>ENT LISCOLH. 

minutes after ten, passed along the pas- 
sage behind the spectators in the dress- 
circle, showed a card to the president's 
messenger, and stood for two or three min- 
utes looking down upon the stage and the 
orchestra below. He then entered the 
vestibule of the president's box, closed the 
door behind him, and fastened it by brac- 
ing a short plank against it from the wall, 
so that it could not be opened from the 
outside. He then drew a small silver- 
mounted Derringer pistol, which he car- 
ried in his right hand, holding a long 
double-edged dagger in his left. All in 
the box were intent on the proceedings 
upon the stage ; but President Lincoln 
was leaning forward, holding aside the 
curtain of the box with his left hand, and 
looking, with his head slightly turned, 
towards the audience. Booth stepped 
■within the inner door into the box, directly 
behind the president, and, holding the 



pistol just over the back of the 
chair in which he sat, shot him 
through the back of the head. 
Mr. Lincoln's head fell slightly forward, 
and his ej^es closed, but in every other 
respect his attitude remained unchanged. 
The report of the pistol startled those 
in the box, and Major Eathbone, turn- 
ing his eyes from the stage, saw, through 
the smoke that filled the box, a man 
standing between him and the president. 
He instantly sprang tow.ards him and 
seized him ; but Booth wrested himself 
from his grasp, and, dropping the pis- 
tol, struck at him with the dagger, in- 
flicting a severe ■wound upon his left 
arm, near the shoulder. Booth then 
rushed to the front of the bos, shouted 
"Sic semper f)/rannis / '^— put his hand 
upon the railing in front of the box, and 
leaped over it upon the stage below. As 
he ■went over, his spur caught in the flag 
which draped the front, and he fell ; but 
recovering himself immediately, he rose, 
brandished the dagger, and facing the 
audience, shouted, " The South is 
avenged/" He then rushed across tho 
stage towards the passage which led to tho 



ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN. 



621 



stage door in the rear of the theater. An 
actor named Hawke was the only jjersoii 
on the stage when Booth leaped upon it, 
and seeing Booth coming *:owards him 
with the dagger in his hand, he ran off the 
stage and up a flight of stairs. Booth ran 
through the passage-way beside the scenes, 
meeting one or two persons only, whom he 
struck from his path, went out at the door 
wliich stood open, and which he closed 
behind him, and mounting a horse which 
he had brought there, and which a lad was 
holding for him, he rode over the Anacosta 
bridge, across the east branch of the Poto- 
mac, safel}' escaping to Lower Maryland. 

It is impossible to describe the scene 
which transpired in that box and in that 
vast audience, on the discovery that the 
president was shot. Suffice it to say, that 
the surgeon-general and other phj'sicians 
were immediately summoned, and their 
skill exhausted in efforts to restore him to 
consciousness. An examination of his 
wounds, however, showed that no hopes 
could be given that his life would be 
spared. 

Preparations were at once made to re- 
move him, and he was conveyed to a house 
immediately opposite, and there placed 
upon a bed, the only evidence of life being 




BOUSE WUEKE LlNCuLX DIED. 

an occasional nervous twitching of the 
hand and heavy breathing. At about half- 
past eleven, the motion of the muscles of 
his face indicated as if he were trying to 
speak, but doubtless it was merely muscu- 
lar. His eyes protruded from their sock- 
■fcts and were suffused with blood. 



At his bedside were the secretaries of 
war, the navy and the interior ; the post- 
master-general and attorney-general ; Sen- 
ator Sumner; General Todd, cousin to 
Mrs. Lincoln; Major Hay, Mr. M. B. 
Field, General Halleck, General Meigs, 
Eev. Doctor Gurley, the phj-sicians, and a 
few other persons. All were bathed in 
tears ; and Secretary Stanton, when in- 
formed by Surgeon-General Barnes, that 
the president could not live until morning, 
exclaimed, "Oh, no. General; no — no;" 
and with an impulse, natural as it was 
unaffected, immediately sat down and 
wept like a child. Senator Sumner was 
seated at the right of the president, near 
the head, holding the right hand of the 
president in his own ; he was sobbing like 
a woman, with his head bowed down 
almost ujion the pillow of the bed. In an 
adjoining room were Mrs. Lincoln, and 
several others. 

Mrs. Lincoln was in a state of great 
excitement and agony, wringing her hands 
and exclaiming, '• Why did he not shoot 
me, instead of my husband ! I have tried 
to be so careful of him, fearing something 
would happen, and his life seemed to be 
more precious now than ever. I must go 
with him ! " — and other expressions of like 
character. She was constantlj' going to 
and from the bedside of the president, say- 
ing in utter grief, "How can it be so!" 
The scene was heart-rending. Captain 
Robert Lincoln bore himself with great 
firmness, and constantly endeavored to 
assuage the grief of his mother by telling 
her to put her trust in God and all would 
be well. Occasionallj', however, being 
entirely overcome, he would retire by him- 
self and give vent to most piteous lamen- 
tations. 

At four o'clock, the symptoms of restless- 
ness returned, and at six the jjremonitions 
of dissolution set in. His face, which had 
been quite pale, began to assume a waxen 
transparency, the jaw slowly fell, and the 
teeth became exposed. About a quarter 
of an hour before the president died, his 
breathing became very difficult, and in 
many instances seemed to have entirely 



622 



ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN. 



ceased. He would again rally and breathe 
with so great difficulty as to be heard in 
almost every part of the house. Mrs. 
Lincoln took her last leave of him about 
twenty minutes before he expired, and was 
sitting in the adjoining room when it was 
announced to her that he was dead. 
When this announcement was made, she 
exclaimed, " Oh ! why did you not tell me 
that he was dj'ing ! " 

The surgeons and the members of the 
cabinet, Senator Sumner, Captain Robert 
Lincoln, General Todd, Mr. Field, and 
one or two more, were standing at his 
bed-side when he breathed his last. Rob- 





ert Lincoln was resting himself tenderly 
upon the arm of Senator Sumner, the 
mutual embrace of the two having all the 
affectionateness of father and son. The 
surgeons were sitting upon the side and 
foot of the bed, holding the president's 
hands, and with their watches observing 
the slow declension of the pulse, and 
watching the ebbing out of the vital spirit. 

He lingered longer than was expected ; 
until, at twenty-two minutes past seven 
o'clock, in the morning, April fifteenth, 
the physician said, with solemn accent and 
overpowering emotion, — 

" He is gone ; he is dead." 

Such was the deep stillness, in that 
awful presence, at the fatal announcementj 



that for the space of five minutes the tick- 
ing of the watches could be distinctly 
heard. All stood transfixed in their posi- 
tions, speechless, breathless, around the 
dead body of that great and good man. 
At length the secretary of war broke the 
silence and said to Rev. Doctor Gurley, 
"Doctor, will you say anything?" He 
replied, "I will speak to God." "Doit 
just now," responded the secretary. Ami 
there, by the side of the fallen chief, a fer- 
vent prayer was offered up, at the close of 
which there arose from the lips of the 
entire company a fervid and spontaneous 
" Amen." 

No adequate portrayal can be 
given of the effect upon the 
public mind, of the murder of 
the president, as the news was 
borne along the telegraphic 
wires, from one end of the land 
to the other. Stunned, bewil- 
dered, incredulous, at first, the 
tears and wailing of a whole 
nation were soon manifest — 
deep answering unto deep — to 
an extent and degree never be- 
fore witnessed since the death 
of Washington. A pang of hor- 
ror seized every heart, in this 
darkest hour of ■ the country's 
history, the emblems of mourn- 
ing shrouded the land in very 
darkness — its streets, its habita- 
tions, its churches, its halls of justice, its 
Capitols, — funeral pageants everywhere 
hushed the noise of business, — and the 
solemn voice of eulogy and lamentation, 
and the sound of dirge and requiem, filled 
the air, from the mountains of the nortli 
to the prairies and valleys of the west ami 
the golden slopes of the far-off Pacific. 

If, in the blind and fatal mistake of 
sectional antagonism or partisan bitterness, 
this most infamous of human crimes found 
apologists, there were, at least, some nota- 
ble exceptions to this feeling. Thus, 
when the tidings reached Richmond, Gen- 
eral Lee at first refused to hear the details 
of the horrid deed, from the two gentlemen 
who waited upon him on Sunday night 



ASSASSINATION" OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN. 



ti23 



vrith the particulars. He said, that when 
he dispossessed himself of the command of 
the confederate forces, he kept in view Pres- 
ident Lincoln's benignity, and surrendered 
as much to the latter's goodness as to 
Grant's artillery. The general said that 
he regretted Mr. Lincoln's death as much 
as any man in the north, and believed him 
to be the epitome of magnanimity and good 
faith. 

On the nineteenth of April, the New 
World witnessed the most imposing fu- 
neral ceremonies that ever took place this 
side of the Atlantic, or perhaps in the 
whole world. The body, which had been 
embalmed, lay in state in the Green Room 
of the White House, the coffin resting 
upon a magnificent catafalque, and the 



The description given by Holland, of 
the procession in the federal metropolis, 
will apply, in its main features, to all the 
corteges in the various cities through 
which the honored remains passed. " Ev- 
ery piazza, window, verandah and house- 
top, was filled with eager but mournful 
faces. Funereal music filled the sweet 
spring air ; and this was the only sound, 
except the measured tread of feet, and the 
slow roll of wheels upon the pavement. 
As the hearse, drawn by six gray horses, 
reached the capitol grounds, the bands 
burst forth in a requiem, and were an- 
swered by minute-guns from the fortificar 
tions. The body of the president was 
borne into the rotunda, where Doctor Gur- 
ley completed the religious exercises of the 




I.12sCOLN'S KESIDENCi: AI slJ;lNGFIELD, ILL. 



grand room overflowing with flowers which 
had poured in from innumerable sources. 
The public exercises took place in the East 
Room, being conducted by Rev. Drs. Hall, 
Gurley, and Gray, and Bishop Simpson. 
The throng of dignitaries, embracing rep- 
resentatives of the army and navy, sena- 
tors and members of congress, judges, for- 
eign ambassadors, governors of the states, 
and other high officials, was such as had 
never before been gathered together in the 
executive mansion. From the latter place, 
the body of the illustrious deceased was 
conveyed, along Pennsylvania Avenue, to 
the great rotunda of the nation's capitol, 
thence to be carried to their last resting- 
place in Oak Ridge cemetery, Springfield, 
LL 



occasion. Here the remains rested, ex 
posed to public view, but guarded by sol- 
diery, until the next day. Thousands 
who had no other opportunity to take their 
farewell of the beloved dust thronged the 
capitol all night. The procession which 
moved from the White House, April 19th, 
was but the beginning of a pageant that 
displayed its marvelous numbers and its 
ever-varying forms, through country, and 
village, and city, winding across the terri- 
tories of vast states, along a track of more 
than fifteen hundred miles." During this 
period, millions gazed upon the loved 
features of the departed president. 

It was on the twenty-first of April, that 
the remains were started upon their mourn- 
ful journey to Springfield, 111. They were 



G24 



ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN. 



taken to that city by the route he pursued 
while on his way from his western home to 
be inaugurated in Washington. Balti- 
more, Harrisburg, Philadelphia, New York, 
Albany', Buffalo, Cleveland, Columbus, In- 
dianapolis, and Chicago, were visited in 
the order named, and at each place, as 
well as all along the route, there were 
most extraordinary demonstrations of re- 
spect and sorrow. Millions of people 
manifested, by every possible means and 
token, their deej) sense of the public loss, 
and their appreciation of the exalted vir- 
tues which adorned the life of Abraham 
Lincoln. All classes, without distinction 
of politics or creeds, spontaneously united 
in the posthumous honors. 

The funeral at Springfield was on a 
beautiful May day. At noon, the remains 
were brought from the state house, in the 
same Learse ■which had borne the bodies 




SERGEANT BOSTOS COBBETT. 

of General Lyon and Thomas H. Benton. 
The hearse was surmounted by a crown of 
flowers. From the portico, as the proces- 
sion advanced, a vast chorus of voices filled 
the air with the strains of "Children of 
the Heavenly King" The ceremonies 
were under the immediate direction of 
General Hooker. A dirge was sung; and 
after the reading of scripture, a prayer, 
and a hjmn, the president's second inau- 
gural address was read. A dirge suc- 
ceeded, after which Bishop Simpson de- 
livered the funeral oration before the great 
audience there assembled, and from the 
midst of which went forth many an ejacu- 
lation of uncontrollable sorrow. 



And the illustrious and beloved 
president, so recently the most ex- 
alted of mortal rulers, was buried 
in his own tomb. 

But before the noble departed had been 
consigned, amidst the tears and lamenta- 
tions of a whole continent, to the earth's 
bosom, John Wilkes Booth, the perpetra- 
tor of the greatest of modern crimes, had 
met his doom, and most of his co-conspirar 
tors — Atzerodt, Doctor Mudd, Payne, Har- 
old, Mrs. Surratt, O'Laughlin, Arnold, and 
Spangler — were in the clutches of the law. 
It was Payne, who, at the same time that 
ISooth's bullet sped its fatal course, en- 
acted his part of the conspiracy in which 
Booth was chief, by entering the sick 
chamber of Secretary Seward, stabbing 
him in the throat, and then escaping. It 
was at Mrs. Surratt's house that the con- 
spirators had met and laid their plans. 
As alleged, Atzerodt was to have taken the 
life of Vice-President Johnson. O'Laugh- 
lin was assigned to murder General Grant 
or Secretary Stanton. Harold was the 
body companion of Booth. Spangler as- 
sisted in Booth's escape from the theater. 
Mudd had held interviews with Booth and 
John H. Surratt, son of Mrs. Surratt 
named above, and had also attended to 
Booth's leg, crippled by his getting entan- 
gled with the flag that decorated the pre.=i- 
dent's box. Arnold was originally in the 
plot, but quarreled, and left it. Booth was 
but twenty-seven years old at the time of 
his crime, by profession an actor, long 
known for his dissipated habits, and for his 
ardent devotion to the southern cause. 
He was born in Harford county, Md., his 
father being the once celebrated actor, 
Junius Brutus Booth, and his brother 
being Edwin Booth, also famous on the 
stage. 

Immediately after the murder. Colonel 
Baker, of the detective service, set out to 
find Booth's hiding-place. He soon sue 
ceeded in capturing Atzerodt and Mudd. 
A negro was then arrested, who said he 
had seen Booth and another man cross the 
Potomac in a fishing boat. Colonel Baker 
sent to General Hancock for twenty-five 



ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN. 



625 



mounted men to aid him in the pursuit. 
These were sent under Lieutenant Dough- 
erty, and Baker placed them under the 
control of Lieutenant-Colonel Conger, and 
of his cousin, Lieutenant L. B. Baker, and 
dispatched them to Belle Plain, with 
orders to scour the country about Port 
-oyal. 

Vt Port Royal they found one Rollins, 
uohemian, who referred them to a negro 
named Lucas as having driven two men a 
short distance toward Bowling Green, in a 
wagon. These men perfectly answered 
the description of Booth and Harold. 
Some disbanded men, it was learned, be- 
longing to Mosby's command, took Booth 
under their protection on the way to 
Bowling Green, a small court-house town 
in Caroline county. To that place. Baker 
and his party immediately proceeded, and 
there found the captain of the confederate 
cavalry, from whom they extorted a state- 
ment of Booth's whereabouts ; this was at 
the house of a Mr. Garrett, which they had 
already passed. 

Returning with the captain for a guide, 
the worn-out command halted at Garrett's 
gate, at two o'clock on the morning of 
April 26th. Without noise, the house 
was surrounded, and Baker went up to 
the kitchen door at the side, and rapped. 
An old man in half undress undrew the 
bolts, and had scarcely opened the door 
before Baker had him by the throat with 
a pistol at his ear, and asked, " Where are 
the men who stay with you ? " Under 
the menace of instant death, the old man 
seemed paralyzed, but at Baker's order lit 
a candle. The question was then repeated. 
" TLey are gone," replied the old man. 
Soon a young boy appeared, and told 
Baker the men he sought were in the 
barn. The barn was then surrounded. 
Baker and Conger went to the door. The 
former called out, signifying his intention 
to have a surrender on the part of the men 
inside, or else to fire the barn, and shoot 
them on the spot. The j'oung boy was 
sent in to receive their arms. To the 
boy's message Booth answered with a 
curse, accusing the boy of having betrayed 

40 



him. The boy then came out, and Baker 
repeated his demand, giving Booth five 
minutes to make up his mind. Booth 
replied — 

" Who are you, and what do you want 
with us ? " 

" We want you to deliver up your arms 
and become our prisoners," said Baker. 
" But who are you ? " 
" That makes no difference. We know 
who you are, and we want you. We have 
here fifty men with carbines and pistols. 
You cannot escape." 

" Captain," said Booth, after a pause, 
" this is a hard case, I swear. Perhaps I 
am being taken by my own friends." 

He then asked time to consider, which 
was granted. After a little interval. 
Baker threatened to fire the barn, if they 
did not come out. Booth replied that he 
was a cripple, and begged a chance for his 
life, declaring that he would fight them 
all at so many yards apace, and that he 
would never be taken alive. Baker an- 
swered that he did not come there to fight 
but to capture him, and again threatened 
to fire the barn. 

"Well, then, my brave boys," said 
Booth, " prepare a stretcher for me." 

Harold now wanted to surrender, and, 
in the midst of a shower of imprecations 
from Booth, did so. Conger then set fire 
to the barn. 

The blaze lit up the black recesses of 
the great barn till every wasp's nest and 
every cobweb in the roof was visible, fling- 
ing streaks of red and violet across the 
tumbled farm-gear in the corner, and bath- 
ing the murderer's retreat in a vivid illu- 
mination, — and, while in bold outline his 
figure stood revealed, they rose like an 
impenetrable wall to guard from sight the 
dreadful enemy who lit them. Behind the 
blaze, with his eye to a crack. Conger saw 
Wilkes Booth standing upright upon a 
crutch. At the gleam of fire. Booth 
dropped his crutch and carbine, and on 
both hands crept up to the spot to espy 
the incendiary and shoot him dead. His 
eyes were lustrous as with fever, and 
' swelled and rolled in terrible anxiety, 



626 



ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN. 



while his teeth were fixed, and he wore 
the expression of one in the calmness pre- 
ceding frenzy. In vain he peered, with 
vengeance in his look ; the blaze that 
made him visible concealed his pursuers. 
A second he turned glaring at the fire, as 
if to leap upon and extinguish it, but the 
flames had made such headway that this 
was a futile impulse, and he dismissed it. 
Aa calmly as upon the battle-field a vet- 



bett fired through a crevice and shot Booth 
in the neck. 

They then took up the wounded man 
and carried him out on the grass, a little 
way from the door, beneath a locust tree. 
Conger went back to the barn, to see if 
the fire could be put out, but found it 
could not, and returned to where Booth 
was lying. Before this (sa/s Lieutenant 
Conger, in his official account), I suppoaea 




BUBIAL PLACE OF LINCOLN. 



eran stands amidst the hail of ball and 
shell and plunging iron. Booth turned at 
a man's stride and pushed for the door, 
■weapon in poise, and the last resolve of 
deaths-despair — set on bis high, bloodless 
forehead. 

At this instant. Sergeant Boston Cor- 



him to be dead ; he had all the appearanoc 
of a dead man ; but when I came back, his 
eyes and mouth were moving. I called 
immediately for water, and put some on 
his face. He seemed to revive, and at- 
tempted to speak. I put my ear down to 
his mouth, and heard him say, "TeU my 



ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN. 



627 



mother I died for my country." I re- 
peated the words to him, and said, "Is 
that what you would say ? " He said 
" Yes." They carried him to the porch of 
Garrett's house, and laid him on a straw 
bed or tick. At that time he revived con- 
siderably, and could talk in a whisper, so 
as to be intelligibly understood. He could 
not speak above a whisper. He wanted 
water; I gave it to him. He wanted to 
turn on his face ; I said he couldn't lie in 
that position. He wanted to be turned on 
his side ; we turned him on his side three 
times, but he could not lie with any com- 
fort, and asked immediately to be turned 
back. He asked me to put my hand on 
his throat, and press down, which I did. 
He said " Harder ; " I pressed as hard as 
I thought necessary. He made a very 
strong exertion to cough, but was unable 
to do so. I suppose he thought there was 
blood in his throat. I asked him to put 
out his tongue, which he did. I said, 
"There is no blood in your throat." He 
repeated several times, "Kill me! kill 
me ! " I replied, " I do not want to kill 
you. I want j'ou to get well." 

When the doctor arrived, whom Conger 
had sent for, Booth asked to have his 
hands raised and shown him. "When this 
was done, he muttered " Useless, useless ! " 
These were his last words. He died about 
four hours after being shot. 

The solemn trial of the other accom- 
plices in this great crime of conspiracy 
and murder, soon took place in the city of 
Washington, before a military commission 
consisting of Generals Hunter, Howe, 
Harris, Wallace, Kautz, Foster, Ekin ; 
Colonels Olendenin, Tompkins, and Bur- 
nett ; Judges Bingham and Holt. The 
last named held the position of Judge- 
Advocate-General of the court, and Major- 
General Hunter officiated as president. 

The charges upon which Paj'ne was 
arrested and tried were, that he was a 
confederate of Booth in the general con- 
spiracy to kill the president, vice-president. 
General Grant, and Secretary Seward, so 
as thus to deprive the army and navy of a 
constitutional commander-in-chief, and to 



prevent a lawful election of president and 
vice-president by the vacancy thus made 
in the office of secretary of state, — the duty 
of the latter officer being, in case of the 
death of the president and vice-president, 
to cause an election to be held for presi- 
dential electors. The arraignment of all 
the parties was upon this general charge, 
with specifications in each case. 

Against Payne, the specification wao 
that of attempting to kill Secretary Sew- 
ard. Presenting himself at the door of 
Mr. Seward's residence, he gained admis- 
sion by representing that he had a pre- 
scription from Mr. Seward's physician, 
which he was directed to see administered, 
and hurried up to the third-story chamber, 
where Mr. Seward was lying sick. He 
here discovered Mr. Frederick Seward, 
struck him over the head, inflicting severe 
wounds, and then rushed into the room 
where Mr. Seward was in bed, attended by 
a young daughter and a male nurse. The 
assassin stabbed the latter in the lungs, 
and then struck Secretary Seward with a 
dagger twice in the face and twice in the 
throat, inflicting terrible wounds. By this 
time Major Seward, eldest son of the sec- 
retary, and another attendant, reached the 
room, and rushed to the rescue of the sec- 
retary ; they were also wounded in the 
conflict, and the assassin escaped. 

Spangler, who was employed at the the- 
ater, was tried for aiding and assisting 
Booth to obtain an entrance to the box in 
which President Lincoln sat in the thea- 
ter, and for barring or obstructing the 
door of the passage-way, so as to hinder 
pursuit. 

Atzerodt was charged with lying in wait 
to murder Vice-President Johnson, at the 
Kirkwood House, where the latter was 
stopping. He took a room at that house, 
on the morning of April 14th, and was 
there at different times during the day and 
evening, under suspicious circumstances. 
Though in active co-operation with Booth 
and his accomplices, he failed in executing 
the part particularly delegated to him. 

In the further programme of the great 
conspiracy, O'Laughliu was to take the 



r.'^S 



ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN. 



life of Geneidl Grant, and on tliis charge 
and specification he was indicted and tried, 
though he failed, like Atzerodt, to accom- 
plish the bloody deed. 

Mrs. Surratt was charged with having 
" on or before the sixth day of March, 
1865, and on divers other days and times 
between that day and the twentieth of 
April, 1865, received, entertained, har- 
bored and concealed, aided and assisted " 
the conspirators in the execution of their 
plans. She was charged with being cog- 
nizant of tlie intended crime almost from 
its inception, becoming an active partici- 
pant and general manager. With Doctor 
Mudd, it was charged, she planned the 
means and assistance for the escape of the 
assassins, and visited Mudd at five o'clock 
on the day of the assassination, to see that 
certain weapons were in readiness. Booth 
had frequent interviews at her house, 
and was with her on the afternoon of the 
fourteenth. 

The part taken by Docioi Mudd, in the 
tragedy, was described in the indictment 
as that of an accomplice. He was, it ap- 
peared, in the confidence of Booth several 
months prior to the assassination. In 
January, he had an interview with John 
H. Surratt and Booth, at the National 
Hotel. He introduced Booth to Surratt, 
and was visited by Booth at the Pennsyl- 
vania House. When the assassins fled to 
his house, he dressed Booth's wound and 
assisted in the escape of both Booth and 
Harold. When the officers called at his J 



house, soon after the assassination, he 
denied that he knew either of the crimin- 
als, but subsequent!}', after his arrest, he 
admitted the fact of his acquaintance with 
Booth ; both of the fugitives were well 
cared for by him at his house. 

Arnold was tried for being one of the 
original conspirators, but it was not 
charged that he maintained any active 
relation to the plot at the time appointed 
for its execution. His guilt consisted in 
being an accomplice before the act. 

Harold's complicity admitted, of course, 
of no doubt. On the night of the assas- 
sination he was seen at the livery stable 
with Booth, and on various occasions he 
was known to have held secret meetings 
with Booth, Atzerodt, and others of the 
conspiracy, at Mrs. Surratt's and else- 
where. During his flight with Booth, he 
acknowledged to confederate soldiers that 
he and Booth had made way with the 
president. 

Atzerodt, Harold, Payne, and Mrs. Sur- 
ratt, were found guilty of crimes deserving 
death, and were hanged therefor on the 
seventh of July, 1865. Arnold, O'Laugh- 
lin, and Mudd, were sent to the Dry Tor- 
tugas for hard labor during life ; and 
Spangler for sis j^ears of hard labor, at the 
same place. John H. Surratt, son of Mrs. 
Surratt above named, and who was also 
indicted, fled to Europe ; being discovered, 
he was arrested and sent to Washington, 
but, after a protracted trial by jury, en- 
caped conviction. 



LXXV. 

STTCCESSFITL LAYING OF THE TELEGRAPH CABLE 
ACROSS THE ATLANTIC OCEAN.— 1866. 



The Old World and tlie New United by Instantaneous Communication.— Pronounced the Grandest of 
Human Enierprises —Ten Years of Difficulty and Failure in the Mighty Task —The Name of Its 
Indomitable Pnijecior Crowned with Immortal Honor —Illustrations of the Power and Wonders of 
this New-Born Agent of Civilization.— Ocean Telegraphs Early Predicted —First Attempt in 1867.— 
Breaking of the Wire— Fresh but Abortive Trials in '58 and '65.— Great Preparations for 1866.— 
Exquisite Construction of the Cable — A Wealthy and Powerful Company— Cyrus W. Field, Its Mas- 
ter Spirit.— Employment of the Great Eastern.— Laying the Shore End at Valentia— Rejoicing of the 
Inhabitants —Voyage of the Fleet to America —Incidents and Accidents.— Intense Solicitude, Day 
and Night.— A Joyous Morning ! July 27th.— Perfect Success from End to End— First News Dispatch, 
Peace in Europe.— Messages Between the President and Queen.— Compliments to Mr. Field.— His 
Interview with Lord Clarendon —John Bright's Sparkling Tribute.— Moral Uses of the Cable. 



"HEiKT's Content. July 27111. We arrived her« at nine o'clock, this rooming. All well. Thank Ood, the coble it laid, and Is In rerftct 
WOTUDtc order. — Lyrus w.riBi.». ' , i- 




i ^NECESSARY would be the task of detailing, in this 
place, — aJditioual to those pages already devoted to Pro- 
fessor Morse's grand discovery, and its practical appli- 
cation the world wide, — the technical principles and 
operations involved in the science of telegraphic com- 
munication. 
It was early declared by Professor Morse, and by other 
sEOTiox OF THE ATLANTIC CABLE, distinguished investigators of the nature and powers of 
the electric current, that neither the ocean itself, nor the distance to be traversed, pre- 
sented any insuperable obstacle to the laying of submerged oceanic lines from conti- 
nent to continent, and tiie confident prophecy that such lines would eventually be 
undertaken was freely uttered and discussed in learned circles. 

It was not, however, until the year 1857, that an attempt was made to stretch a tele- 
graphic wire across the bed of the Atlantic. The cable was coiled half on board the 
United States steamship Niagara, and half on the British steamer Agamemnon. They 
began to lay it in mid-ocean on the 26th of June, the Niagara proceeding toward the 
American coast, the Agamemnon toward Ireland. After the wire had three times 
broken, the attempt was given up. The following August it was renewed on a different 
plan. The shore-end was made fast at Valentia Bay, and the Niagara began jaying 
out on the seventh, the arrangement being that the Agamemnon should begin ojierar 
tioiis when the Niagara had exhausted her half of the cable. On the eleventh, after 
three hundred and thirty-five miles had been laid, the wire broke again. The third 
attempt was made with the same vessels m lHoS. The ends of the cable were joined 



630 



LAYESTG OF THE ATLANTIC TELEGRAPH. 



in mid-ocean, July 29th, and, August 6tli, 
the two vessels arrived simultaneously at 
their respective destinations. This cable 
■worked for a time, but the electric current 
grew weak and finally failed altogether. 

But these repeated failures, though a 
severe disappointment to those engaged in 
the great and costly enterprise, did not 
destroy their faith in its feasibility, and 
the mighty task was begun anew, advan- 
tage being taken of whatever instruction 
past experience could furnish or suggest. 

Especial care had, it is true, been exer- 
cised in the previous undertaking, to have 
the construction of the cable itself as per- 
fect as possible. It was the result of 
many months' thought, experiment, and 
trial. Hundreds of specimens were made, 
comprising every variety of form, size, and 
structure, and most severely tested as to 
their powers and capabilities ; and the 
result was the adoption of one which, it 
was believed, possessed all the properties 
required, in a far higher degree than any 
cable that had yet been laid. Its flexibil- 
ity was such as to make it as manageable 
as a small line, and its strength such that 
it would bear, in water, over six miles of 
its own weight suspended vertically. The 
conducting medmm consisted not of one 
single straight copper wire, but of seven 
wires of copper of the best quality, twisted 
round each other spirally, and capable of 
undergoing great tension without injury. 
This conductor was then enveloped in 
three separate coverings of gutta percha, 
of the best quality, forming the core of 
the cable, round which tarred hemp was 
wrapped, and over this, the outside cover- 
ing, consisting of eighteen strands of the 
best quality of iron wire, — each strand 
com}X)sed of seven distinct wires, twisted 
spirally, in the most approved manner, by 
machinery specially adapted to the pur- 
pose. Such was the exquisitely constructed 
cable used on this occasion. 

Great attention was al-so paid to the 
arrangement of the apparatus for paying 
out. The machine for this purpose was 
placed on deck in the after-part of the 
vessel, and somewhat on the starboard side. 



to be clear of the mast, etc. The cable, as 
it came up from its enormous coils in the 
hold, passed first through a guiding groove 
and over a deeply grooved wheel, on to the 
drums, each of the latter being furnished 
with four deep grooves, each groove being 
cut one-eighth of an inch deeper than the 
former to allow for slack. The cable, after 
winding round these drums, passed on 
from the last groove over another guiding 
wheel, to a distinct piece of machinery, 
also standing on the deck, and half-way 
between the brakes and the ship's stern. 
Here a grooved wheel worked on a sliding 
frame, furnished with weights fixed on a 
rod, which ended in a jiiston, inside of a 
cylinder, full of water. This piston, being 
made not quite large enough to fit the 
cj'linder, the water hud room to plaj' about 
it, but with difiiculty — so that, yielding 
freely to every alteration of pressure, it 
could do so to none with a jerk, as the 
piston required some little time to dislodge 
the water from one side of it to the other, it 
acting, in short, as a water cushion. From 
this last piece of machinery the cable 
passed over a wheel or sheave projecting 
well over the stern of the ship, and so 
down into the ocean depths. 

So intelligent and powerful an associa- 
tion as that which had this great enter- 
prise in charge — an association composed 
of some of the leading merchants and cap- 
italists of England and America, guided 
by the wonderful genius of Mr. Cyrus W. 
Field, — might well be supposed incapable 
of j'ielding to defeat, and thus it was that, 
until success finally and beyond all perad- 
venture crowned their efforts, they con- 
tinued their tests and trials of improved 
machinery and cables, availing themselves 
of every resource of science, and even 
bringing into requisition, at last, the mag- 
nificent conveniences of conveyance af- 
forded by that " leviathan of the deep," the 
steamer Great Eastern. 

In this way, certain facts and principles 
were arrived at, and demonstrated by trials 
and expeditions conducted in accordance 
therewith, which showed plainly what had 
been the errors of the past, and what 



LAYING OF THE ATLANTIC TELEGRAPH. 



631 



should be the governing rules of future 
operations. Among these facts and princi- 
ples were the following : 

It was proved by the expedition of 1858, 
that a submarine telegraph cable could be 
laid between Ireland and Newfoundland, 
and messages transmitted. 

By the expedition of 1865 — when the 
cable was lost — it was demonstrated that 
the insulation of a cable improves very 
much after its submersion in the cold 
deep water of the Atlantic, and that its 
conducting power is considerably increased 
thereby ; that the steamship Great East- 
ern, from her size and constant steadiness, 
and from the control over her afforded by 
the joint use of paddles and screw, ren- 
dered it safe to lay an Atlantic cable in 
any weather ; that in a depth of over two 
miles, four attempts were made to grapple 
the lost cable, in three of which the cable 
was caught by the grapnel, and in the 
other the grapnel was fouled by the 
chain attached to it ; that the paying- 
out machinery used on board the Great 
Eastern worked perfectly, and could be 
confidently relied on for laying cables 
across the Atlantic ; that with the im- 
proved telegraphic instruments for long 
submarine lines, a speed of more than 
eight words per minute could be obtained 
through such a cable as that sunk between 
Ireland and Newfoundland, as the amount 
of slack actually paid out did not exceed 
fourteen per cent., which would have made 
the total cable laid between Valentia and 
Heart's Content nineteen hundred miles ; 
that the lost Atlantic cable, though capa- 
ble of bearing a strain of seven tons, did 
not experience more than fourteen hun- 
dred-weight in being paid out into the 
deepest water of the Atlantic between 
Ireland and Newfoundland ; that there was 
no difiiculty in mooring buoys in the deep 
waters of the Atlantic between Ireland 
and Newfoundland, and that two buo}'s 
even, when moored by a piece of the 
Atlantic cable itself, which had been pre- 
viously lifted from the bottom, had ridden 
out a gale ; that more than four nautical 
miles of the Atlantic cable had been 



recovered from a depth of over two miles, 
and that the insulation of the gutta 
percha covered wire was in no way what- 
ever impaired by the depth of water 
or the strains to which it had been sub- 
jected by lifting and passing through 
the hauling-in apparatus ; that the cable 
of 1865, owing to the improvements in- 
troduced into the manufacture of the 
gutta percha core, was more than one 
hundred times better insulated than cables 
made in 1858, then considered perfect ; 
that the electrical testing could be con- 
ducted with such unerring certainty as to 
enable the electricians to discover the 





4ir-^^ 



existence of a fault immediately after its 
production or development, and very 
quickly to ascertain its position in the 
cable ; and, finallj', that with a steam- 
engine attached to the paying-out ma- 
chinery, should a fault be discovered on 
board whilst laying the cable, it was 
possible to recover it before it had reached 
the bottom of the ocean, and have it 
repaired at once. 

Still led on by that master-spirit of the 
enterprise, Mr. Field, its friends formed 
themselves into a new company, with a 
large amount of capital, and the summer of 
1866 was fixed upon for another effort, the 
Great Eastern to be employed for the pur- 



632 



LAYING OF THE ATLANTIC TELEGRAPH 



pose. By the time (says Dr. H. M. Field, 
the admirable historian of the enterprise,) 
the big ship had her cargo and stores on 
board, she was well laden. Of the cable 
alone there were two thousand four hun- 
dred miles, coiled in three immense tanks, 
as the year before. Of this, seven hun- 
dred and forty-eight miles were a part of 
the cable of the last expedition. The 
tanks alone, with the water in them, 
weighed over a thousand tons ; and the 
cable which they held, four thousand tons 
more ; besides which she had to carry 
eight thousand five hundred tons of coal 
and five hundred tons of telegraph stores 
— in all some fourteen thousand tons, 
besides engines, rigging, etc., which made 
nearly as much more. So enormous was 
this burden, that it was thought prudent 
not to take on board all her coal before 
she left the Medway, especially as the 
channel was winding and shallow. It 
was therefore arranged that about a third 
of her coal should be taken in at Bere- 
haven, a port on the south-west coast of 
Ireland. The time for her departure, was 
the last day of June ; and in four or five 
days she had passed down the Irish coast, 
and was quietly anchored in the harbor at 
Berehaven, where she was soon joined by 
the other vessels of the squadrou. The 
Terrible, which had accompanied the Great 
Eastern on the former expedition, was still 
there to represent the majesty of England. 
The William Corry, a vessel of two thou- 
sand tons, bore the ponderous shore end, 
which was to be laid out thirty miles from 
the Irish coast, while the Albany and the 
Medway were ships chartered by the com- 
panj'. While the Great Eastern remained 
at Berehaven, to take in her final stores of 
coal, the William Corry proceeded around 
the coast to Valentia, to l.ay the shore 
end. She arrived off the harbor, July 
7th, and immediately prepared for her 
heavy task. This shore end was of tre- 
mendous size, weighing over eight tons to 
the mile. The cable was to be brought 
off on a bridge of boats, reaching from the 
ship to the foot of the cliff. All the fish- 
ermen's boats were gathered from along 



the shore, while the British war-ship 
Kacoon, which was guarding that part of 
the coast, sent up her boats to help, so 
that, as they all mustered in line, there 
were forty of them, making a long pon- 
toon-bridge ; and Irish boatmen with eager 
looks and strong hands were standing 
along the line to grasp the massive chain. 
All went well, and by one o'clock the cable 
was landed, and its end brought up the 
cliff to the station. The signals were 
found to be perfect, and the William Corry 
then slowly drew off to sea, unlimbering 
her stiff shore end, till she had cast over 
the whole thirty miles. At three o'clock, 
the next morning, she telegraphed through 
the cable that her work was done, and she 
had buoyed the end in water a hundred 
fathoms deep. 

The joy of the inhabitants on witness- 
ing this scene was earnest and deep-seated, 
rather than demonstrative, after the les- 
son taught by last year's experience. The 
excitement was below, instead of above 
the surface. Nothing could prevent the 
scene being intensely dramatic, but the 
prevailing tone of the drama was serious, 
instead of boisterous and triumphant. 
Speech-making, hurrahing, public congrat- 
ulations, and vaunts of confidence, were, 
as it seemed, avoided as if on purpose. 
The old crones (says an English paper) in 
tattered garments who cowered together, 
dudheen in mouth, their gaudy colored 
shawls tightly drawn over head and under 
the chin — the barefooted boys and girls, 
who by long practice walked over sharp 
and jagged rocks, which cut up boots and 
shoes, with perfect impunity — the men at 
work uncovering the trench, and winding 
in single file up and down the hazardous 
path cut by the cablemen in the otherwise 
inaccessible rock — the patches of bright 
color furnished by the red petticoats and 
cloaks — the ragged garments, only kept 
from falling to pieces bj' bits of string and 
tape — the good old parish priest, who exer- 
cises mild !nd gentle spiritual sway over 
the loving subjects of whom the ever-pop- 
ular Knight of Kerry is the temporal 
head, looking on benignly from his car — 



LAYING OF THE ATLANTIC TELEGRAPH. 



633 



the bright eyes, supple figures, and inno- 
cent faces of tlie peasant lasses, and the 
earnestly hopeful expression of all — made 
up a picture not easily described. 

On the thirteenth of July, the fleet was 
ready to sail on its great errand, and lay 
the cable in the heart of the wide and 
deep ocean. Previously to the departure, 
however, a devotional meeting was held, 
participated in by the company, the offi- 
cers and hands, at which the enterprise 
was solemnly commended to the favor of 
God. In a short time after leaving the 
shores of Ireland, the Medway reached the 
buoy to which the shore-end was attached, 
and immediately the operation of splicing 
that end with the main coil on board the 
Great Eastern was performed. 

At about three o'clock, p. m., the tele- 
graph fleet was on its way to Newfound- 
land, in the following order : The Terri- 
ble ahead of the Great Eastern on the 
starboard bow, the Medway on the port, 
and the Albany on the starboard quarter. 
The weather was thick and foggy, with 
heavv rains. Signals were sent through 
the cable on board of the Great Eastern 
and to the telegraph house at Valentia, 
and the two thousand four hundred and 
forty nautical miles were found perfect in 
condition, and only waiting their final 
destination in the vast womb of the ocean. 

All went well until noon of July 18th, 
when the first real shock was given to the 
success that had hitherto attended them, 
and caused considerable alarm. A foul 
flake took place in the after-tank. The 
engine was immediately turned astern, 
and the paying of the cable stopped. All 
hands were soon on the decks, and there 
learned, to their dismay, that the running 
and paying out of the coil had caught 
three turns of the flake immediately under 
it, carried them into the eye of the coil, 
fouling the toy-out and hauling up one- 
half turns from the outside, and five turns 
of the eye of the under flakes. This was 
stopped, fortunately, before entering the 
paying-out machines ; stoppers of hemp 
with chains were also put on near the 
wheel astern, and orders were given by 



Mr. Canning, to stand by to let go the 
buoy. This was not very cheering to 
hear ; but, though the calm and collected 
man inspired those around him with con- 
fidence that his skill and experience would 
e.xtricate the cable from the danger in 
which it was placed, no fishing line was 
ever entangled more than the rope when 
thrust up in apparently hopeless danger 
from the eye of the cable to the deck. 

There were at least five thousand feet 
of rope lying in this state, and in the 
midst of thick rain and increasing wind, 
the cable crew set to work to disentangle 
it. The Dolphin was there, too, patiently 
following the lights as they showed them- 
selves, the crew now passing them forward 
and now aft, until at last the character of 
the tangle was seen, and soon it became 
apparent that ere long the cable would be 
saved and uninjured down to the tank. 
Captain Anderson was at the taffrail, anx- 
iously watching the strain on the rope 
(they could scarcely make it out, the night 
was so dark), endeavoring to keep it up 
and down, going on raising with paddle 
and screw. In view of the rise of the 
great ship, and the enormous mass she 
presented to the wind, the difficulty of 
keeping her stern, under the circum- 
stances, over the cable, can be appreci- 
ated. The port paddle-wheel was discon- 
nected, but afterward there was a shift 
of wind, and the vessel came-to the wrong 
way. 

Welcome voices were now heard passing 
the word aft from the tank, that the 
bights were cleared, and to pay out. Then 
the huge stoppers were quietly opened, 
and at 2 : 05 A. J'., to the joy of all, the 
cable was once more being discharged. 
They veered it away in the tank to clear 
the screw, and' the paddle-engines were 
slowed so as to reduce the speed of the 
ship to four and a half knots. During all 
this critical time, there was entire absence 
of noise and confusion. Everything was 
silently done, and the cable men and crew 
worked with heart}' good will. 

On the morning of Friday, at eight 
o'clock, July 27th, the ship arrived at 



634 



LAYING OF THE ATLANTIC TKLEGRAPH. 



Heart's Content, the American terminus, 
the distance run being one thousand six 
hundred and sixty-nine miles, and the 
length of cable paid out, one thousand 
eight hundred and four miles. The aver- 
age speed of the ship from the time the 
splice was made until they came in sight 
of land was a little less than five nautical 
miles per hour, and the cable was paid out 
at an average of five and one-half miles 
per hour. The total slack was less than 
twelve per cent. The fleet was in con- 
stant communication with Valentia since 
the splice was made, July 13th, and 
news was daily received from Europe, 
which was posted up outside of the tele- 
graph office, for the information of all on 
board of the Great Eastern, and was sig- 
naled to the other ships. It would be 
difficult to describe the feelings with which 
Mr. Field, who, with his associates on 
board, had watched the progress of the 
undertaking with intense solicitude, day 
and night, — penned the following an- 
nouncement to his friends in New York, 
and which was received throughout the 
whole land with unbounded delight : — 

" Heart's Content, Juhj 27. We 
arrived here at nine o'clock, this morning. 
AIL well. Thank God, the cable is laid, 
and is in perfect ivorking order. 

Cyeus "W. Field." 

Strangely and happily enough, too, the 
first European tidings flashed across the 
cable to the western hemisphere, was, that 
a treaty of peace had just been signed 
between Austria and Prussia, and that 
tlie black war cloud which had gathered 
over all Europe was fast fleeing away ; — a 
fit celebration of the grandest of human 
enterprises, the successful establishment of 
telegraphic communication between the 
Old world and the New. 

Congratulatory dispatches were immedi- 
ately forwarded, by Mr. Field, to the pres- 
ident of the United States, the secretary 
of state, and to the honorary directors of 
the Atlantic Telegraph Company. The 
queen of England sent her salutations to 
the president, as follows : '■' The Queen 



congratulates the President on the suc- 
cessful completion of an undertaking which 
she hopes may serve as an additional bond 
of union between the United States and 
England." To this, the president re- 
sponded by saying: "The President of 
the United States acknowledges with pro- 
found gratification the receipt of Her 
Majesty's dispatch, and cordially recipro- 
cates the hope that the cable which now 
unites the eastern and western hemi- 
sjjheres may serve to strengthen and to 
perpetuate peace and amity between the 
Government of England and the Eepublic 
of the United States." 

Heart's Content, the American terminus 
of the cable, is a little fishing hamlet, 
hitherto unknown, but destined to an en- 
during reputation hereafter, as one of the 
most interesting geographical points in 
the history of the age. The bay on which 
it is situated is a very safe and capacious 
one, and on this account was selected. 

Among the complimentary messages 
sent to Mr. Field, on the consummation of 
his great and magnificent scheme, was one 
which came to hand on Monday, July 
30th, from M. de Lesseps, the renowned 
projector of the Suez Canal. It was 
dated in Alexandria, Egypt, the same day, 
at half-past one o'clock, p. M., and reached 
Newfoundland at half-past ten, A. M. By 
looking at the globe, one can see over 
what a space that message flew. Remark- 
ing upon the wonderful fact, a New York 
paper graphically said that it came from the 
farthest East, from the land of the Pha- 
raohs and Ptolemies ; it jjassed along the 
shores of Africa, and under the Mediter- 
ranean, more than a thousand miles, to 
Malta ; thence it leaped to the continent, 
and shot across Italy, and over the Alps, 
and then through France, under the Chan- 
nel, to London ; then across England and 
Ireland, till from the cliffs of Valentia it 
struck straight into the Atlantic, darting 
down the submarine mountain which lies 
off the coast, and over all the hills and 
valleys of the waterj' plain, resting not 
till it touched the shore of the New World. 
Thus, in its morning's flight, it had passed 



LAYING OF THE ATLANTIC TELEGRAPF. 



fi35 




ABRIVAL, OF THE GKEAT EASTERN AT HEART'S CONTENT, WITH THE ATLANTIC CABLE. 



over one-fourth of the earth's surface, 
and so far outstripped the sun in his 
course, that, by the dial, it reached its 
destination three hours before it was sent ! 
Curiously enough, too, in this latter con- 
nection, it was found, when considering 
the propriety of not sending messages on 
Sunday, that, supposing no delay in trans- 
mission, Sunday in the United States is 
Saturday in Calcutta, and thus the adop- 
tion of such a rule would be — working east- 
ward and westward — to exclude Saturdaj-, 
Sunday, and Monday, from telegraph 
operations. 

As illustrating the moral uses, too, sub- 
served by land and ocean telegraph lines 
connecting different countries and conti- 
nents, the following case, given in a New 
York journal — by no means an extreme 
case in this present day of increased tele- 
graphic facilities — will be found in point : 
A knavish Chinaman in California having 
contracted the barbarian vice of swindling, 
has been cheating sundry merchants in 
San Francisco out of eighteen thousand 
dollars, and, getting on board the Pacific 
Mail steamship, fled to the Central Flowery 
Kingdom. In this way he hoped to put 
between himself and those whom he had 
robbed, first, some ten thousand miles of 
ocean. But, a telegram from San Fran- 
cisco bears the tidings of his crime to New 
York. New York sends it by cable across 
the Atlantic to London, London through 



France and under the Mediterranean to 
Alexandria, Alexandria by the Red Sea 
and Persian Gulf to Bombay, Bombay to 
Ceylon, and Ceylon by the Peninsula and 
Oriental steamers to China. So that, 
when Hong-Kee trips lightly down the 
ship's gangway at Hong Kong or Shang- 
hai, dreaming of much opium and many 
almond-eyed daughters of the Sun in the 
Land of Flowers, his placid soul will be 
disconcerted by the tap of a bamboo on 
his shoulder, and a voice of doom will 
murmur an ungentle summons in his ear. 
Poor Hong-Kee ! The bad morals of the 
Christians have corrupted him, and in the 
steam-engine of the Christians has he put 
his trust. But the literal ' chain-light- 
ninsr' cf those same Christians is after 
him, to outstrip their steam-engine, and to 
teach him in sorrow and in shame how 
much better he might have done. 

Not less curious, in a scientific point of 
view, is the following incident, as related 
by Mr. Field, at the magnificent banquet 
given in his honor, in New York, on the 
triumphant completion of what has justly 
been pronouncea the grandest of human 
enterprises. " The other day," said Mr. 
Field, in his speech on this occasion, " Mr. 
Lattimer Clark telegraphed from Ireland, 
across the ocean and back again, u-ith a 
batteri/ formed in a lady's thimble ! And 
now Mr. Collett writes me from Heart's 
Content : " I have just sent my compli- 



636 



LAYING OF THE ATLANTIC TELEGRAPH. 



ments to Doctor Gould, of Cambridge, 
who is at Valentia, with a battery com- 
posed of a gun cap, with a strip of zinc, 
excited by a drop of water, the simple bulk 
of a tear / ' " 

Too great credit can never be awarded 
to Mr. Field, for his persevering devotion 
to this enterprise, through ten years of 
disheartening failure. In the early stages 
of the enterprise, few encouraged him in 
his expectations, though all personallj' 
wished him well. On preparing, there- 
fore, for one of his trips across the Atlan- 
tic, in connection with the business, one 
of his friends said to him, " When shall 
we siee you again ? " " Not until I have 
laid the cable ! " was Mr. Field's reply. 
So, too, on presenting the subject to 
Lord Clarendon. The latter showed 
great interest and made many inquiries, 
but was rather startled at the mag- 
nitude of the proposed scheme, as well 



as at the confident tone of the projec- 
tors, and pleasantly asked the lion-hearted 
man — 

" But, suppose you don't succeed ? Sup- 
pose j'ou make the attempt and fail — your 
cable is lost in the sea — then what will 
you do ? " 

" Charge it to profit and loss, and go to 
work to lay another," was Mr. Field's quick 
and characteristic response to his noble 
friend. 

On another occasion, w-hen dining at 
the residence of Mr. Adams, the Ameri- 
can ambassador, in London, he was seen 
for an instant to nod his head. John 
Bright, who sat next to him, turned to 
him with a smile, and said, " I am glad to 
see you sleep ; / didn't knoiv that you ever 
slept ! " — a most pertinent and deserved 
tribute to the man whose indomitable faith 
and energy was finally crowned with im- 
mortal success. 



i 



^=n 



LXXVI. 
COMPLETION OF THE PACIFIC RAILROAD.— 1869. 



Spikes of the Richest uold and a Hammer of Pure Silver Used in Laying the Last Rail.— The Blows 
of the Sledge Telegraphed to All the Great Cities.— The Wide Continent Spanned with Iron from the 
Farthest East to the Golden Gale —Junction of the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans.— Seven Days Irom 
New York to San Francisco.— Greatest Railroad Route on the Face of the Earth.— " Manifest Des- 
tiny " of the United States.- A Pacific Highway Agitated for Years —Its National Importance and 
Necessity.— Charters and Government Aid at Last.— The " Union " and " Central " Companies.- 
Natural Difficulties to be Overcome— Feats of Engineering Involved.— Triumphs of Science in this 
Respect.— Mountains Tunneled, Rivers Bridged.— Gulfs Spanned, Depths Fathomed.— Vastness and 
Progress of tlie Work —A Force of Twenty-five Thousand Men and Six Thousand Teams —First 
Train at the Top of the Sierras.- Pushing the Line to Completion.— Approach of the .'wo Grand 
Divisions.- Union at Promontory Point, Utah —Exultation Over the Victory.— Historic Scene in the 
Heart of America.— Offerings of Gold, Silver, Iron, and Laurel.— Telegram to President Grant.— Cel- 
ebration in the Principal Cities.— Easy Journey Around tiie World. 



■■The laal rail ii laid-tlie list Bpike dri7en-the Pacific Roiirond i. completMil"-OKr[ClAL Teleqbam feom Peobobtoet Poikt, 

OCTOBBE loth, 18BU 




MOtnJTAlN SCEJTE ON THE PACIFIC KAILBOAI*. 



ELIEVERS in the "manifest destiny" 
of the universal Yankee nation were fa- 
vored with one of the most conclusive and 
gratifying confirmations of their cherished 
theory, when that most stupendous work 
ever undertaken by man, the Construction 
^ of the Pacilic Railway, was finally consum- 
mated by the laying of the last rail and the 
memorable ceremony performed by officials 
of clasping together the iron girdle about 
the loins of the nation ; — in the winding of 
which mighty coil across the continent, 
mountains were tunneled which made 
one's head giddy to gaze upon ; rivers were 
bridged which, since the primeval days of 
creation, had rolled in majestic solitude; 
gulfs, frightful and tumultuous, were 
spanned; frowning heights were climbed 
and leveled; and abyssmal depths were 
fathomed. And all this was accomplished 
in a period of time, and on a scale of mag- 
nitude, the recital of which is fairly calcu- 
lated to stagger credulity. 

Notwithstanding the necessity of sf.ch a 
line of communication had for years been 



638 



COMPLETION OF THE PACIFIC RAILROAD. 



repeatedly urged, it was not until 1859 
Ihat a bill was carried through congress, 
authorizing the grand scheme. This hill, 
— according to the Chicago Times' exhaust- 
ive account of the history of the enter- 
prise, which is here abridged, — comprised 
no less than three great lines, namely, the 
northern, the southern, and the central. 
But the breaking out of the civil war 
checked the enterprise. The astonishing 
development, however, of the precious 
metals in Nevada and the travel and traf- 
fic that inevitably followed, embodied for 
the mines of Californians that imperious 
need of a cheaper and easier conveyance, 
into a plan of a continental railway, which 
had always been popular there. 

The assumed impracticability of cross- 
ing the Sierras did not discourage a few 
daring, far-sighted engineers, prominent 
among whom was Mr. T. P. Benjamin, 
the character of whose survej-s decided 
the state legislature to charter the Cen- 
tral Pacific railroad company, in 1862. 
In a short time, success crowned the ef- 
forts of the friends of the enterprise in 
congress ; and so, in July, 1862, the great 
continental railway from the Missouri to 
the Pacific was an assured undertaking. 
In 1865, forty miles were built ; in 1866, 
two hundred and sixty-five miles; in 
1867, two hundred and forty-five miles; 
in 1868, four hundred and twenty-five 
miles; in 1869, one hundred and five 
miles. East of Salt Lake City, the eleva- 
tion of the road averages about seven thou- 
sand feet above the sea. Most of the coun- 
try is very rough, destitute of wood and 
water, and a large portion of the way is 
through an alkali desert. Tremendous 
jHow-storms in the mountains presented 
another great difficulty. 

The spirit of rivalry did its share in 
stimulating the activity of the Union 
Pacific company. The efforts of this com- 
pany had so far languished during the ear- 
lier history of their corporation, that little 
was done till after the close of the war. 
The Central Pacific, however, immediately 
commenced work, so that, in Januarv, 
1863, the first grading was done, — the 



occasion being signalized with great re- 
joicing as a general holidaj', — and, even so 
early as June, 1864, thirty-one miles of 
track had been laid to New Castle, nearly 
one thousand feet above the sea at the 
foot of the Sierras. But, owing to finan- 
cial difficulties, it was not until September, 
1866, that progress was made to Alta, sev- 
enty miles east of Sacramento, and nearly 
six thousand feet above the sea. In No- 
vember following, the track reached Cisco 
some six thousand feet above the sea, an 
average elevation of about one hundred 
feet per mile being overcome in twenty- 
three miles. 

Work on the Union Pacific did not 
commence till eighteen months after the 
Central had inaugurated their section of 
the enterprise. In the spring of 1867. 
when the snows had melted, the work was 
resumed by both companies, with great 
vigor, the race being kept up with an 
ardor that constantly gathered head. The 
Union was far ahead in respect to dis- 
tance, but they had to fight against con- 
tinually increasing difficulties, while the 
Central had already overcome the great 
ones of their undertaking in crossing the 
Sierras, and could look forward to an open 
and easy route. The first passenger train 
reached the top of the Sierras, November 
30, 1867. By the time the western end 
of the route had reached the lower 
Truckee, one hundred and forty miles 
east of Sacramento, the Union had reached 
a point in the Black Hills, five hundred 
miles west of Omaha. 

At the opening of the summer of 1868, 
the two companies were nearly equally 
distant from Monument Point, at the 
head of Salt Lake, and the emulation be- 
tween the two gave rise to prodigious ef- 
forts. About twenty-five thousand men 
and six thousand teams were engaged 
along the route between the foot of the 
Sierras and Evans's pass. The competi- 
tion increased as they neared each other, 
and at last the struggle arose as to the 
point of junction. The Central company 
wished Ogden fixed as the point of junc- 
tion, and the Union urged Monument 



COMPLETION OF THE PACIFIC RAILROAD. 



639 



Point ; thu matter was at last settled by a 
decision in favor of the former. The dan- 
gers to which the laborers were subjected, 
and the imperious necessity of vigilant 
protection of the track and material of the 
road, were great and unceasing, owing to 
the inveterate hostility of the Indians. 
From Fort Kearney west, up the Platte 
river, to the foot of the Black Hills, the 
road was subject to a continual succession 
of fierce attacks. Several battalions of 
United States troops were scattered along 
the line, and found full employment in 
adequately guarding the object of their 
vigilance. 

That the completion of such a vast en- 
terprise, unparalleled in magnitude and 
grandeur, should be hailed as one of the 
most memorable achievements in the ma- 
terial progress of the country, was cer- 
tainly to be expected. Nor is it to be 
wondered at that the original pick and 
shovel employed in commencing such a 
work, should still be looked upon, by every 
patriot, with historic interest. They are 
carefully preserved, and bear the following 
inscriptions : 

" Pick that struck the first lloiv on the 
Union Pacific railroad, Omaha, Decem- 
ber 2, 1863. Pickers: Thomas Acheson, 
Wilson F. Williams, George Francis Train, 
Peter A. Day." 

" Shovel used by George Saunders, to 
move the first earth in the Union Pacific 
railroad, Omaha, Neb., December 3, 1863. 
Shcvelers : Alvin Saunders, governor of 
Nebraska; B. E. B. Kennedy, mayor of 
Omaha ; I. M. Palmer, mayor of Council 
Bluffs ; Augustus Kountze, director of 
U. P. R. R." 

The following table of distances on the 
two lines will show the magnitude of this 
great channel of continental communica- 
tion : From New York to Chicago, 911 
miles ; from Chicago to Omaha, Neb., 
491 miles. From Omaha, by the Union 
Pacific line, to Ogden, 1,030, and a branch 
of forty miles to Salt Lake City. From 
Ogden, by the Central Pacific line, 748 
miles. From Sacramento to San Fran- 
cisco, 120 miles. Thus, the grand di.i- 



tance, by the iron track, from Omaha to 
San Francisco, is 1,898 miles ; from Chi- 
cago to San Francisco, 2,389; from New 
York to San Francisco, 3,377 miles, 

In less than one-half or one-third of the 
time predicted at the outset of the enter- 
prise, the road was completed, — a great 
feat, indeed, when it is considered that 
the workmen operated at such a distance 
from their base of supplies, and that the 
material? for construction and subsistence 
had to be transported under such a vari- 
ety of difficulties. Thus, the transporta- 
tion of one hundred and ten thousand tons 
of iron rails, one million fish-plates, two 
million bolts, fifteen million spikes, three 
and a half million cross-ties, and millions 
of feet of timber not estimated, for the 
construction of roads, culverts and bridges, 
made one of the minor items of the ac- 
count. The moving of engines and mar 
chinery for stocking manufactories, of 
materials for foundries and buildings of 
every kind, not to speak of the food for an 
army of thousands of workmen, all of 
which belong to the single account of 
transportation, may also give an impres- 
sion of the activitj' and expense required 
in bringing such a road to completion in 
so short a time. 

Of course the irregularities of surface 
characterizing a distance so immense, and 
particularly that portion of the line run- 
ning among the Sierra Nevada mountains, 
necessitated tunneling, cutting, and tres- 
tle-bridging, on s, large scale. The well- 
known Bloomer Cut, sixty-three feet deep 
and eight hundred feet long, is through 
cemented gravel and sand, of the consist- 
ency of solid rock, and only to be moved 
by blasting. The trestle-bridging con- 
stituted one of the most important features 
in the construction of the road, and the 
work, on completion, was pronounced oi 
the most durable description. Among the 
most famous of these structures may be 
mentioned the trestle and truss bridge, 
Clipper ravine, one hundred feet high; 
the Long ravine, Howe truss bridge and 
trestle, one hundred and fifteen feet high ; 
".nd the trestle at Secrettown, one thou- 



040 



COMPLETION OF THE PACIFIC EAILROAD. 



sand feet long, and fifty to ninety feet 
high. The highest engineering skill was 
demanded, from first to last, and the tri- 
umphs of science, in this respect, were 
complete. 

The total mileage of the roads built un- 
der the direct authority and by the aid of 
the national government, was two thou- 
sand four hundred miles. The govern- 
ment subsidy in aid of these works, 
amounted to about $64,000,000, of six per 
cent, currency bonds, the companies being 
also authorized to issue an equal amount 
of bonds. Both companies had also a land 
grant from congress, in alternate sections, 
equal to twelve thousand eight hundred 
acres per mile. 

Ninety million dollars was the cost of 
the Union Pacific railroad, up to 1869 ; 
that of the Central Pacific, seventj'-five 
million. This enormous sum, especially 
in its relation to the government indebt- 
edness, alarmed some timid economists. 
But a sufficient answer to their arguments 
was, that millions upon millions of acres 
of government lands, hitherto Ij'ing idle, 
would come into the market, and very 
speedily appear as productive farms tilled 
by the hand of industry' ; that towns, vil- 
lages, cities, manufacturing, mining, and 
all the appliances and evidences of mate- 
rial progress, would at once take a start, 
the wealth of the East be poured into the 
West, and emigration westward populate 
territories and turn them into states as if 
by magic. B3' means of this new and 
wonderful highway, the distance from 
New York to San Francisco would be 
traversed bj' passengers in six or seven 
days, instead of three weeks or more via 
Panama. From San Francisco to Japan 
is nineteen days, or twenty-five from New 
York, and some thirty-six from London, a 
speed exceeding that of the British mails 
to Yokohama, via Suez, by upwards of 
twenty days. And thus, San Francisco, 
on the Pacific, the travel and commerce of 
the nations of Western Europe with the 
hundreds of millions of people of Eastern 
Asia, and the great island of Australia, 
would pass over the railway, — the laud 



that built it thereby reaping the benefit of 
being the world's highway. 

On the tenth of May, 1869, the grand his- 
toric event took place at Promontory Point, 
Utah, of uniting the two great divisions of 
the trans-continental railway. Early in 
the morning, says the Chicago Tribune, 
Governor Stanford and party from the Pa- 
cific coast were on the ground ; and at half- 
past eight, an engine with a palace and two 
passenger cars arrived from the east bring- 
ing Vice-President Durant and directors 
Duff and Dillon, of the Union Pacific rail- 
road, with other distinguished visitors, 
including several Mormon apostles. Both 
parties being in readiness, the ties were 
thrown down on the open space of about 
one hundred feet, and the employes of 
the two companies approached with the 
rails to fill the gap. Mr. Stenbridge, sub- 
contractor, who had been in charge of the 
building of the Central Pacific from the 
laying of the first rail on the bank of the 
Sacramento, commanding a party of Chi- 
nese track-layers, advanced from the west 
with assistant - general superintendent 
Corning. 

The Chinamen, conscious that the 
strangers from the far east were watch- 
ing their movements with curious eyes, 
wielded the pick, shovel and sledge, with 
consummate dexteritj' ; but their faces wore 
an appearance of unconcern and indiffer- 
ence wonderful if real, and not the less so 
if affected. White laborers from the east 
did their best work, but with more indicar 
tion of a desire to produce an effect, and 
at eleven o'clock the European and Asiatic 
private soldiers of civilization stood face 
to face in the heart of America, each 
proudly conscious that the work was well 
done, and each exultant over so noble a 
victory. Engine No. 119 from the Atlan- 
tic, and Jupiter, No. 60, from the Pacific, 
each decorated with flags and evergreens 
for the occasion, then approached within a 
hundred feet from opposite directions, and 
saluted with exultant screams. Superin- 
tendent Vandenburgh now attached the 
telegraph wires to the last rail, so that 
each blow of the sledge should be recorded 



COMPLETION OF THE PACIFIC RAILROAD. 



641 



on every connecting telegrnph instrument 
between San Fram-isco and PortlanJ, Me. 
It was also arranged so that corresponding 
blows should be struck on the bell in the 
city hall at San Francisco, and the last 
one fire a cannon in the batteries at Fort 
Point. General Safford, in behalf of the 
territor}' of Arizona, presented a spike 
composed of iron, gold and silver, as an 
offering by Arizona, saying : 



be struck. Every head was uncovered in 
reverential silence, while Rev. Dr. Todd, 
of Pittsfield, Mass., offered up a brief and 
deeply impressive invocation. 

The magnificent tie of laurel, on which 
was a commemorative plate of silver, was 
brought forward, put in place, and Doctor 
Harkness, in behalf of the state of Califor- 
nia, presented Governor Stanford the gold 
spike. President Stanford, of the Central 
Pacific railroad, responded, accepting the 
golden and silver tokens, predicting the 
day as not far distant when three tracks 




COMPLETION OF THE PACIFIC RAILROAD. 

"Ribbed with iron, clad in silver, and 
crowned with gold, Arizona presents her 
offering to the enterprise that has banded 
every continent and dictated a new ■path- 
way to commerce." 

The crowd fell back at the request of 
General Casement, and the artist for the 
Union Pacific railroad photographed the 
scene, with the locomotives confronting 
each other, and Chinese and Caucasian 
laborers confronting the work. It was 
BOW announced that the last blow was to 
41 



■" ^-^ 



would be found necessary to accommodate 
the traffic which would seek transit across 
the continent, and closing with the happy 
summons — " Kow, geutlemen, toith your 
assistance, we ivill proceed to lay the last 
rail, the last tie, and drive the last spike." 
General Dodge, in behalf of the Union 
Pacific railroad, responded as follows : 
" Gentlemen, — The great Benton prophe- 



642 



COMPLETION OF THE PACIFIC RAILROAD. 



sied that some day a granite statue of Co- 
lumbus would be erected on the highest 
peak of the Rocky mountains pointing 
westward, denoting this as the great route 
across the continent. You have made 
that prophecy this day. Accept this as 
the way to India." Mr. Tuttle, from 
Nevada, presented a silver spike on behalf 
of the citizens of that state, with the fol- 
lowing remarks : " To the iron of the East 
and the gold of the West, Nevada adds 
her link of silver, to span the continent 
and wed the oceans." Thereupon, Super- 
intendent Coe, in behalf of the Pacific 
Union express, presented the silver ham- 
mer, or sledge, with which to drive the 
last spike. 

Governor Stanford and Vice-President 
Durant advanced, took in hand the sledge, 
and drove the spike, while the multitude 
stood silent. Mr. Miles, of Sacramento, 
who was chairman of the meeting, an- 
nounceil the great work done! The si- 
lence of the multitude was now broken, 
and a prolonged shout went forth, which, 
while it yet quivered on the gladdened air, 
was caught up by the willing lightning, 
and borne to the uttermost parts of the 
earth. Cheer followed cheer for the union 
of the Atlantic and Pacific, the two Pacific 
railroad companies and their ofiicers, the 
president of the United States, the Star 
Spangled Banner, the laborers, etc. A 
telegram announcing the grand consumma- 
tion was sent at once to President Grant, 
and one to the associated newspaper press 
immediately followed, worded thus : 

" The last rail is laid! The last spike 
driven ! The Pacific Railroad is com- 
pleted! The point of junction is 1,086 
miles west of the Missouri river, and 690 
miles east of Sacramento City." 

There was a great deal of interest and 
excitement in Washington, and a large 
crowd assembled at the telegraph office, 
as soon as it was known that the driving 
of the last spike would be announced by 
the wires. Mr. Tinker, the manager, fixed 
a magnetic ball in a conspicuous place, 
where all present could witness the per- 
formance, and connected the same with 



the main lines, notifying the various 
offices throughout the country, that he 
was ready. New Orleans, New York and 
Boston, instantly answered that they were 
ready. Soon afterward, many of the offi- 
ces in different parts of the country be- 
gan to make all sorts of inquiries of the 
office at Omaha, from which point the cir- 
cuit was to be started. That office replied : 

" To everybody : Keep quiet. When 
the last spike is driven at Promontory 
Point, we will say "Done." Don't break 
the circuit, but watch for the signals of 
the blows of the hammer." 

After some little delay, the instruments 
were all adjusted, and 2.27, in the after- 
noon, Promontory Point .said to the peo- 
ple congregated in the various telegraph 
offices — " Almost ready. Hats off ; prayer 
is being offered." A silence for the prayer 
ensued. At 2.40 the bell tapped again. 
and the office at the Point said — " We 
have got done praying. The spike is 
about to be presented." Chicago replied 
— " We understand. All are ready in the 
East." Promontory Point — "All ready 
now. The spike will soon be driven. The 
signal will be three dots for the com- 
mencement of the blows." 

For a moment the instrument was 
silent, and then the hammer of the mag- 
net tapped the bell, one, two, tliree — the 
signal. Another pause of a few seconds, 
and the lightning came flashing eastward, 
vibrating two thousand four hundred miles, 
between the junction of the two roads and 
Washington, and the blows of the ham- 
mer upon the spike were delivered in- 
stantly, in telegraphic accents, on the bell 
in Washington. At 2.47, in the after- 
noon, Promontory Point gave the signal, 
"Done!" — the announcement that the 
continent was spanned with iron. The 
time of the event in San Francisco was 
11.45, in the forenoon. A telegraph wire 
had been attached to a fifteen-inch gun, 
and as the first stroke on the last spike 
was telegraphed from Promontory Point, 
the gun was fired by electricity, and by 
the same agent all the fire-bells in the city 
were rung. 



COMPLETION OF THE PACIFIC KAILKOAD. 



64i 



The news of the completion of the road 
created, of course, great enthusiasm in all 
the cities of California. In San Francisco, 
the event was celebrated in a manner long 
to be remembered. The day was ushered 
in by a salute of one hundred guns, and 
congratulatory messages were transmitted 
to the directors of the Central and Union 
roads by the "California Pioneers." All 
the Federal forts in the harbor fired sa- 
lutes, the bells being rung and the steam 
whistles blown at the same time. Busi- 
ness was suspended, nearly every citizen 
exhibiting a hearty interest in the demon- 
strations. The procession was the largest 
and most imposing ever witnessed in San 
Francisco. In addition to the state mili- 
tia, all the available United States troops 
participated in the pageant, while the 
civic societies turned out with full ranks. 
The shipping was dressed in fine style — 
both the city and harbor, indeed, present- 
ing a magnificent sight. During the day, 
the principal buildings were festooned 
■with the banners of every nation, and the 
streets were thronged with an excited and 
joyous people. At night, the whole city 
was brilliantly illuminated. 

At Sacramento, the event was observed 
with marked demonstrations. The city 
was crowded with a multitude of people 
from all parts of the state and Nevada, to 
participate in or witness the festivities, 
particularly the grand odd-fellows' proces- 
sion. The lines of travel to and from Sac- 
ramento were thrown open to the public 
free, and an immense number of people 
took advantage of this arrangement and 
flocked thither. The Central Pacific com- 
pany had thirty locomotives gaily decked, 
and as the signal gun was fired announc- 
ing the driving of the last spike of the 
road, the locomotives opened an overpow- 
ering chorus of whistles, all the bells and 
steam whistles of the city immediately 
joining in the deafening exhibition. 

In Chicago, the celebration was the 
most successful affair of the kind that 
ever took place in that city, and, probably, 
in the West, although it was almost en- 
tirely impromptu. The procession was 



unique in appearance and immense in 
length, being, at the lowest estimate, four 
miles, and representing all classes, associ- 
ations and trades. During the moving of 
the procession, Vice-President Colfax, who 
was visiting the city, received the follow- 
ing dispatch, dated at Promontorj' Point: 
"The rails were connected to-day. The 
prophecy of Benton is a fact. This is the 
way to India." A very interesting feat- 
ure in the procession was an array of mail- 
wagons with post-office employes, and sev- 
eral tons of mail matter in bags, labeled 
and marked as if bound for some of the 
large cities both on this side and beyond 
the Pacific ocean. Some of these were 
marked as follows: 'Victoria, Australia;' 
'Washington, Oregon (G. D. P.-O.) ; ' 
'Yeddo, Japan;' 'Pekin, China (G. D. 
P.-O.) ; ' ' Golden City, Colorado ; ' ' Den- 
ver, Colorado;' 'Santa Fe, New Mexico;' 
'Hong Kong, China, via Chicago;' 'Yo- 
kohama, Japan.' In the evening, Vice- 
President Colfax, Lieut. Gov. Bross, and 
others, addressed a vast assemblj', speak- 
ing eloquently of the great era in Ameri- 
can history ushered in by the event of the 
day. The marine display was also very 
fine. 

On the announcement of the completion 
of the road in New York, the mayor or- 
dered a salute of one hundred guns, and 
himself saluted the mayor of San Fran- 
cisco with a dispatch conceived in the 
most jubilant spirit, — informing him that 
"our flags are now flying, our cannon are 
now booming, and in old Trinity a Te 
Deum imparts thankful harmonies to the 
busy hum about her church walls." The 
Chambers of Commerce of the two cities 
also exchanged congratulations, the New 
York chamber recognizing in the new 
highway an agent that would not only 
"develop the resources, extend the com- 
merce, increase the power, exalt the dig- 
nity and perpetuate the unity of our re- 
public, but in its broader relations, as the 
segment of a world-embracing circle, di- 
rectly connecting the nations of Europe 
with those of Asia, would materially facili- 
I tate the enlightened and advancing civil- 



f)44 



COMPLETION OF THE PACIFIC EAILEOAD. 



ization of our age." The services in Trin- 
ity were conducted with great solemnity, 
in the presence of a crowded congregation. 
After prayer, and the reading of a portion 
of the Episcopal service, tlie organ pealed 
forth in its grandest fullness and majesty, 
and, as the assembly dispersed, the church 
chimes added to the joyousness of the oc- 
casion by ringing out " Old Hundred," the 
" Ascension Carol," and the national airs. 

In Philadelphia, the authorities im- 
provised a celebration so suddenly, that 
the ringing of the bells on Independence 
H.ill, and at the various fire stations, was 
mistaken for a general alarm of fire, till 
the news was announced. The sudden 
flocking of the people to the state-house 
resembled that which followed the recep- 
tion of the news of Lee's surrender to 
Grant. In many other towns and cities 
throughout the imion, the event was cele- 
brated with great spirit. Even as far east 
as Springfield, Mass., the jubilee sjjirit 
was carried out. The entire force of work- 
men of Wason's car manufactory in that 
city formed a procession, headed by a band 
and accompanied by a battery, and marched 
from the shops of the company through 
the principal streets, each man bearing 
some tool or implement of his trade. 
Banners bearing ' Our cars unite the Atlan- 
tic and Pacific,' ' Four hundred car builders 
celebrate the opening of the Pacific Rail- 
road,' ' For San Francisco, connecting with 
ferry to China,' etc., were conspicuous. 

Returning to the scenes at Omaha, that 
interesting and important point on this 
trans-continental highway, the day was 
there observed by such an outpouring of 
the people as had never before been 
equaled. The morning trains from tlie 
west brought the fire companies and the 
masonic fraternity from Fremont, and 
large delegations from towns and settle- 
ments as far west as North Platte. Be- 
fore noon, the streets were filled with a 
multitude anxiously awaiting the signal 
from Capitol hill, where a park of artillery 
was stationed in the neighborhood of the 
observatory, to enable it to fire a salute 
the moment the telegraphic signals an- 



nounced that the last spike had been 
driven. A grand procession was one of 
tlie marked features of the day ; and, at 
about half-past one, tlie booming of one 
hundred guns, the ringing of bells, and 
the shrieking of the whistles of steamers 
and locomotives, proclaimed that Omaha 
and Sacramento were forever united by 
iron bands, and that now had been opened 
a highway from the gates of the east to 
the realms of sunset itself. 

Thus, in the consummation of this 
mightiest v/ork of utility ever undertaken 
by man, a journey around the world be- 
came a tour both easy and brief. The city 
of San Francisco could be reached from 
New York, in less than seven days, run- 
ning time. Arrived there, the finest 
ocean steamers in the world, each one of 
some four or five thousand tons, awaited 
the traveler, to take him, in twenty-one 
days, or less, to Yokohama, and thence, in 
six days more, to any part of China. 
From Hong Kong to Calcutta required 
some fourteen days by several lines of 
steamers touching at Singapore, Ceylon, 
Madras, or ports on the coast of Burmah. 
From Calcutta, a railroad runs far up into 
the north of India, on the borders of 
Cashmere and Affghanistan, and running 
through northern India, Benares, Alla- 
habad, etc. Another road intersects at 
Allahabad, more than six hundred miles 
above Calcutta, running some six hundred 
miles to Bombay, where it connects with 
the overland route to and from Egj'pt, in 
twelve or thirteen days by steamer and 
rail from Bombay to Cairo. From Cairo, 
almost any port in Europe on the Medi- 
terranean could be reached in from three to 
five days, and home again in twelve days 
more, making the actual traveling time 
around the world only seventy-eight days. 

More wonderful still, a trans-continental 
train, which left New York early on the 
morning of June 1st, 1876, reached San 
Francisco at twenty-five minutes past nine, 
June 4th, in the morning ; thus accom- 
plishing the journey in eighty-three hours 
and twenty minutes, without stoppages 
and without accident. 



LXXVII. 

THIRTY THOUSAND MILES OF RAILWAY IN THIRTY 

YEARS, AND EIGHTY THOUSAND IN HALF A 

CENTURY.— 1859. 



Curious Chronicles Eelatiug to the lutroductiou of Improved Means of Transit. — The Old and the New. — 
Development and Progress. — Numerous and Important Advantages. — Great Saving of Time and 
Expense. — Initiatory Undertakings in the United St.ates. — First American Railway with Steam as the 
Locomotive Power. — Sm.all Beginnings : Great Results. — Amazing Growth and Expansion in all 
Directions. — Social and Business Clianges. — Inf.incy of Mechanism in this Line. — Pioneer Coach and 
Locomotive. — Successive Steps of Advancemeut. — Usual Channels of Trade Abandoned. — Power of 
Capital Demonstrated. — Distant Sections and Interests Equalized. — Stimulus to Industry. — Vast 
Constructive Works Involved. — U. S. Enterprise not Behindhand. — " Breaking the Ground." — Less than 
20 Miles in 1829. — Some 30,000 Miles in 1S59. — Constant and Rapid Increase. — Inventive Genius 
Displayed. — " Improvements " by the Thousands. — Steel Rails Substituted for Iron. — Luxury on 
Wheels. — Palace and Sleeping Car.-;. — Tremendous Speed Attained — American and Foreign Lines. — 
Railways 16,000 Feet Above the Sea. 



*' Soon Bhalt thy power, unconquered Steam I afar 
Drag the swift barge and drive the rapid cor." 

Daewin.— (more than one hundred years ago.) 




ERHAPS no invention of tlie pres- 
ent centurj', — it lias been well re 
marked by the eminent Dr. Bake- 
well, — has produced such wide- 
spread social and businesschanges 
as that of steam locomotion on 
railways. Not only have places 
that were formerly more than a 
day's journey from each other 
been made accessible in a very 
few hours, but the cost of travel- 
ing has been so much reduced, 
that the expense has in a great 
degree long ceased to operate as 
a bar to communication by rail- 
way for business or pleasure, and 
the usual channels of trade have 
been most profitably abandoned 
or superseded, with the greatest benefit to every interest involved. 

As already remarked, in estimating the importance and advantage of railway travel- 



TR.WELEKS' DEPENDENCE IX FORMER TI.MES. 



G46 



EIGHTY THOUSAND MILES IN HALF A CENTURY. 



jng, there must not be omitted its cheap- 
ness and comfort, compared with travel- 
ing by stage coach There are occasion- 
ally to be found, it is true, even at this 
late day, persons who look back with re- 
gret to the old coach ; and it is not to be 
denied that radwajs have taken away much 
of that peculiar romance of traveling, and 
much of the exhilarating pleasure that was 



various waj's concentrating the energies 
of a people, and thus enlarging materially 
their wealth, comforts and social inter- 
course. 

Of no inferior consideration, too, in re- 
lation to the grand invention of steam 
railway travel, are the many subsidiary 
works which have been created during its 
progress toward perfection, and which 




LuiOAloriVE 



experienced when passing through a beau- 
tiful country on the top of a well-horsed 
coach in fine weather. The many inci- 
dents and adventures that gave variety to 
the journey were, it is true, pleasant 
enough for a short distance ; but two days 
and a night on the top of a coach, exposed 
to cold and rain, or cramped up inside, 
with no room to stir the body or the legs, 
was accompanied with an amount of suf- 
ering which those who have experienced it 
would willingly exchange for a seat, even 
in a second or third-class railway car. In 
a business as well as a social point of view, 
also, railways have made a powerful mark, 
— tending, as they do, to equalize the 
value of land throughout immense regions, 
by bringing distant sources of supply 
nearer the points of demand ; giving ex- 
traordinary impetus to manufacturing in- 
dustry ; and connecting all parts of a 
country more closely together : — in these 



KOC KliT," lSL'9. 

have coTitributed so vastly to its .-uccesa. 
Thus, tunnels, of a size never before con- 
templated, have penetrated for miles 
through hard rocks, or through shifting 
clays and sands; embankments and via- 
ducts liave been raised and erected, on 
a scale of magnitude surpassing any 
former similar works ; bridges of stupen- 
dous proportions and of wonderfully in- 
genious adaptation, have been constructed 
to meet special exigencies, in some cases 
carrying railways over straits of the sea, 
or other waters, through gigantic tubes — 
or, in other cases, across rivers, suspended 
from rods supported by curiously devised 
piers and girders ; &c., &c. 

That the history of railways shows what 
grand results may have their origin in 
small beginnings, is no less true than that 
the ])ower of capital is seen in this as in 
all other great material enterprises. In 
i evidence of the former truth, Dr. Lyell 



EIGHTY THOUSAND MILES IN HALF A CENTURY. 



647 



mentions the interesting, though of course 
well-known, fact, that, when coal was first 
conveyed in tlie neighborhood of New- 
castle-on-Tyne, from the pit to the sliip- 
ping place, the pack horse, carrying a 
burden of three hundred weight, was the 
only mode of transport employed ; as soon 
as roads suitable for wheeled carriages 
were formed, carts were introduced, and 
this first step in mechanical appliance to 
facilitate transport had the effect of in- 
creasing the load which the horse was 
enabled to carry, from three hundred to 
seventeen hundred weight. The next im- 
provement consisted in laying wooden bars 
or rails for the wheels of carts to run upon, 
and this was followed by the substitution 
of the four-wheeled wagon for the two- 
wheeleii cart ; by this further application 
of mechanical principles, the original 



the superb steel rails of later days Of 
the locomotive engine, which makes it 
possible to convey a load of hundreds of tons 
at a cost of fuel scarcely exceeding that of 
the provender which the original pack-horse 
consumed in conveying its load of three 
hundred pounds an equal distance, it may 
justly be called one of the crowning 
achievements of mechanica;! science. Thus, 
the railway system, like all other compre- 
hensive inventions, has risen to its present 
importance by a series of steps, — in fact, 
so gradual has been this progress, that the 
system finds itself committed, even at the 
present day, to a gauge fortuitously de- 
termined by the distance between the 
wheels of the carts for which wooden rails 
were originally laid down, though this is 
now being superseded by a narrower gauge, 
to a considerable extent. Nor is the in- 




^^^'"^ -^~<-^ 



LO< OMOTIVK OF T<>DAV. 



horse load of three hundred weight was 
augmented to forty-two hundred. These 
were indeed important results, and they 
were not obtained without the shipwreck 
of many a fortune. 

The next step of progress in this direc- 
tion was the attachment of slips of iron to 
the wooden rails. Then came the iron 
tramway, — the upright flange of the bar 
acting, in this arrangement, as a guide to 
keep the wheel on the track. The next 
advance was an important one, and con- 
sisted in transferring the guiding flange 
from the rail to the wheel, an improve- 
ment which enabled cast iron edge rails to 
be used. Finally, in 1820, after the lapse 
of many years from the first employment 
of wooden bars, wrought iron rails, rolled 
in long lengths, and of suitable section, 
were made, and in time superseded all 
other forma of railway, coming finally to 



teresting fact to pass unnoticed, namely, — 
the promptness with which man's inven- 
tive faculty supplies whatever device the 
I circumstances of the moment may require. 
I No sooner is a road formed fit for wheeled 
I carriages to pass along, than the cart takes 
tlie place of the pack-saddle ; no sooner is 
the wooden railway provided, than the 
wagon is substituted for the cart ; no 
sooner is an iron railway formed, capable 
of carrying heavy loads, than the locomo- 
tive engine is ready to commence its 
wonderful career ; — and so on, ad indefi- 
nitum. 

The characteristic enterprise of Ameri- 
cans did not fail them in this era of trans- 
formation and advancement. The first 
railroad attempted in the United States 
was a crude and temporary affair in Bos- 
ton — a double-track arrangement for re- 
moving gravel from Beacon Hill, and so 



648 



EIGHTY THOUSAND MILES IN HALF A CENTURY 



contrived tliat, while one train descended 
the hill with its load, the empty train 
would thereby be hauled up for loading. 
A more positive effort iu this line, and 
more really deserving the name of a rail- 
way — and consequently honored by his- 
torians with the term of priority — was 
that constructed in Quincy, Mass., for the 
purpose of transporting granite from the 
quarry at that place to the Neponset river, 
ailistance of about four miles; it was a 
single track road, with a width of five feet 
between the rails, the latter being of pine, 
covered with oak, and overlaid with thin 
plates of wrought iron ; and the passage 
from the quarry to the landing, of a car 
r.'irrying ten tons, with a single horse, was 



Among the early undertakings of this 
character, on an extensive and costly scale, 
was the Boston and Lowell railroad, con- 
structed in the most substantial manner 
of stone and iron, and which, on its com- 
pletion, was visited by strangers from all 
places, as one of the chief objects of at- 
traction in the metropolis of New Eng- 
land. 

The following extract from a Lowell 
newspaper of that day, giving an account 
of the ' breaking of the ground ' in that vil- 
lage (for village it then was,) for this enter- 
prise, possesses sufficient interest to entitle 
it to preservation : ' The excavation 
which is now about being made in a hill 
in this place for the bed of the contem- 




OBIGINAI. 

performed in an hour. This was com- 
pleted in 1827, and the affair created much 
interest. 

The first use of a locomotive in this coun- 
try was in 1829, and was used on the rail- 
road built by the Delaware and Hudson 
company. From this fairly dates, there- 
fore, American railway travel with steam 
as the locomotive power. So popular was 
this means of transit, however, that, in 
thirty years from the time of its small be- 
ginning, more than thirty thousand miles 
of the iron road traversed the country in 
different directions ; this number of miles 
increasing to some eighty thousand in 1879, 
with nearly fifteen thousand locomotives, 
and a capital of rising four and a half 
billions. 



STEAH OAK. 



plated railway, may be considered, next to 
the various manufacturing establishments, 
the most wonderful ' lion ' of the place. 
This hill is near the terminus of the rail- 
way, in the neighborhood of the brewery, 
but not in a populous part of the town. 
It consists of a ledge of rock, which is 
about three hundred yards in length, and 
the average depth of the excavation is 
about forty feet. It is thirty feet wide at 
the bottom, and sixty at the top, and the 
masses of stone which have already been 
riven from the ledge by blasting, seem to be 
immense. A contract was originally made 
with a person to effect a suflScient passage 
through this hill, for the sum of seventy- 
two thousand dollars. He commenced the 
undertaking, employed sixty workmen for 



EIGHTY THOUSAND MILES IN HALF A CENTURY. 



64y 



about four mouths — aud failed. Another 
j)erson then undertook to finish the worli 
for the same amount ; but after a few- 
months, he also abandoned the undertalc- 
ing. Those individuals are said to have 
both been acquainted with the nature of 
the business which they undertook, but 
they were deceived by the quality of the 
rock, which consists principally of gneiss 
and mica, through which, although much 
lighter and softer than limestone or 
granite, it was found much more difficult 
and expensive to effect a passage, than if 
it were composed of those more solid ma- 



the drill ' The difference of means and 
methods peculiar to that period, as com- 
pared with those employed at the present 
day, in undertakings of this description, 
will readily suggest itself to the reader. 

The constant aud rapid increase in the 
construction of railway lines constituted, 
thencefoith, a great feature for national 
progress, and the inventive genius of the 
country displayed in this direction soon 
became correspondingly active, — so much 
so, in fact, that many scores of thousands 
of mechanical improvements are now re- 
corded in the Patent Office at Washington. 




MODER.V KAILWAY CAB. 



terials. The drilling may not be so diffi- 
cult ; but the rocks, lying in horizontal 
strata, almost defy the power of gunpow- 
der, so that heavy blasts, which would 
shiver an immense mass of granite, are 
frequently found here to produce but little 
effect. In addition to tliis, the ledge is 
found to be full of springs of water which 
sometimes render it necessary for the 
workmen to expend much time, and exer- 
cise no inconsiderable ingenuity, in coun- 
teracting its effect." There are also found 
in the lower part of the ledge, huge 
masses of quartz, and a species of rock 
composed almost entirely of hornblende, 
which is, of course, almost impenetrable to 



Some of the principal lines constructed soon 
after, or nearly cotemporary with, the above 
named, were the Boston and Worcester, 
Boston and Providence, Hudson and Mo- 
hawk, Saratoga and Schenectady, Ithaca 
and Susquehanna, Ithaca and Catskill. 
Catskill and Canajoharie, New York and 
Erie, New York and Albany, Camden and 
Aniboy, Baltimore and Ohio, Lake Cham- 
plain and Ogdensburgh, — and so the list 
might be well-nigh indefinitely extended, 
coming down to those magnificent lines of a 
later day which sjian the wide continent, 
bringing the remotest sections of the East, 
the West, the North, and the Soutl into 
immediate proximity, and uniting,by bands 



650 



EIGHTY THOUSAND MILES IN HALF A CENTURY. 



of iron and steel, "our whole country, 
however bounded." 

It would certainly be a difficult task to 
desoiibe the ' luxury on wheels ' exhibited 
in the construction and equipment of the 
railway cara which now convey passengers 
on all the principal lines, — palace cars, 
drawing-room cars, etc., as they are truly 
called, and costing, in frequent instances, 
twenty thousand dollars each ; or the mag- 
nificent and powerful locomotives, built at 
an expense, in many cases, equal to that 
of a first-class city residence ; the superb 
and durable steel rails ; the continuous 
power-brakes ; steel and steel-tired car 
wheels f electric signals; the contrivances 
for lighting and warming; — nothing short 
of a whole volume would afford space ade- 
quate to any suitable description of these 
and a thousand kindred matters pertaining 
to the railway system of the present day. 

The highest speed of railway trains pos- 
sesses, in the popular rather than the scien- 
tific view, a peculiar interest, and some 
comparisons have been made, in this re- 
spect, between onr American and the 
British and other European roads. Among 
the latter, the 'Flying Dutchman' has 
been considered the fastest train — for a 
comparatively short distance — in the world; 
tliat is, it runs from London to Swindon, 
seventy-seven miles, in eighty-seven min- 
utes, being at the rate of fifty-three miles 
an hour, while Exeter, about one hundred 
and ninety-four miles, is reached in four 
and one-quarter hours, giving an average 
pace of forty-five and one-half miles per 
hour. Next to this train for speed is the 
run by the Great Northern Railway to 
Peterborough, when the average rate is 
fifty-one miles, while tlie two hundred and 
seventy-two miles to Newcastle is traveled 
in six hours and twenty minutes, or at 
forty-three miles an hour. The limited 
mails of the London and Northwestern, 
while running to Edinburgh northward, 
and Holyhead westward, have trains trav- 
eling the four hundred and one and two 
hundred and sixty-four miles respectively 
at a pace of forty miles an hour. The 
Midland conveys its passengers to Leices- 



ter, ninetj'-seven and a half miles, at a rate 
of forty-four and three-quarters miles per 
hour. The London and Brighton, by their 
fast trains, run to London by the sea in 
an hour and ten minutes, the rate being 
forty-three miles an hour. On the Conti- 
nent no such paces as the above are met 
with. The French express from Calais to 
Paris is known as the fastest French train, 
doing thirty-seven miles an hour on an 
average, while, from Paris to Marseilles, a 
distance of five hundred and thirty-seven 
miles, travelers are conveyed at the rate of 
thirty-four miles an hour. Swiss railways 
are slow, expresses only attaining a speed 
of twenty-two miles an hour. In Belgium, 
the highest speed is thirty-three miles an 
hour, and in Holland about the same. 
From Berlin to St. Petersburg, one thou- 
sand and twentj'-eight miles, is traversed 
in fortj'-six hours, the pace being twenty- 
two and a half miles an hour. In our own 
country, forty or fifty miles an hour m;iy 
be said to be the maximum rate attained — 
excepting on a few special occasions, — the 
average speed being much less, nor does 
the popular demand seem to favor an ex- 
cessive pace. 

Among the various requirements of the 
railway system at present, so that the de- 
fects now experienced in such traveling 
may be remedied, the following may be 
enumerated : First and foremost, the adop- 
tion of what is known as the ' block ' sys- 
tem, in its most rigorous form, should be 
made compulsory ; greater brake power 
should be introduced ; double couplings 
should be provided for all cars and trucks 
when traveling from one station to another, 
even if the use of single couplings, to save 
time, be allowed during shunting opera- 
tions ; foot-boards should be continuous, 
and made so as to overlap platforms ; lock- 
ing of car doors on both sides should be 
prohibited under all circumstances, even 
when a train is stationary, and, when it is 
in motion, both doors should in all cases 
be unlocked ; the consecutive hours of duty 
for signalmen should be limited to six, and 
the maximum for one day at such a post, 
even with an interlude, should be ten; 



EIGHTY THOUSAND MILES IN HALF A CENTURY 



651 



and finally, a system of telegraphic cotn- 
iiuiiiication, whether automatic or worked 
by hand, at both ends, should be enforced 
between signal and signal-box. 

One of the most interesting, as well as 
most recent, railway achievements, and 
deserving of historical record, is the line 
across the main ridge of the Andes, be- 
tween Lima and Oroya. This remarkable 
engineering work comprises about one 
hundred and thirty miles of road, and is 
intended as a first step towards bringing 
the rich and fertile interior of the country 
east of the Andes into easy communication 
with the capital and the ports of the Pa- 
cific. Thfc crest of the Andes is traversed 
by means of a short tunnel, at an altitude 
of nearly sixteen thousand feet above the 
sea level, — the steep and irregular slope 
up to this point being ascended by a series 
of sharp curves and reversed tangents, and 
the deep ravines spanned by bridges, one of 
these being some two hundred and sixty- 
five feet high. 

It is the judgment of the best authori- 
ties in these matters, that, as there is no 
part of the world where railroads have 
been such an important agency in material 
development as has been the case in the 
United States, so it is a fact, also, that no- 
where else has there been greater progress 
in the art of railway construction or in the 
business of railway administration and 
management Of the one hundred and 
eighty-five thousand miles of railway in 
the world, which had been completed in 
the half century succeeding their intro- 
duction, nearly one-half belonged in the 
United States, — a preponderance which, 
having reference to territorial area, must 
be considered very great, but, as compared 
with the populations, is really enormous. 

In the very able report on tliis subject 
by Mr. W. A. Anderson, whose large ac- 
quaintance with European railways enabled 
him to form the most reliable conclusions, 
the opinion is expressed that, with vast 
regions urgently demanding the speedy 
construction of new roads as the line of 
civilization has moved across the continent, 
with the needs of the older settled portion 



of the country not by any means supplied, 
and with that impatience of delay and 
eagerness of enterprise which are charac- 
teristic of the American jieople, it is not 
surprising that there should be much that 
is crude and superficial in many of the 
railway works of such a country ; but, 
when the relative cost of construction, ihe 
wants of a comparatively new and partially 
developed country, and the nature of the 
means available for railway construction, 
are considered, the fact appears that Amer- 
ican railroads, in the condition of their 
permanent ways and of their rolling stock, 
in their sj-stem of administration and in 
their efficiency, compare quite favorably 
with those of any other country. In many 
respects they would not be so well suited 
to the countries and populations of Europe 
as are the modes of railroad construction 
and management now usually prevailing 
in those countries. Indeed, the character- 
istic social relations, and the wants of the 
people and needs of our country, are so dif- 
ferent from those of European nations, 
that it is difficult fairly to contrast the 
European railway systems with the Ameri- 
can, — each being marked by peculiarities 
of special adaptation to the respective 
countries. 

There are, however, some striking par- 
ticulars in which the practice of European 
railways, — their management of trains, 
their plans and arrangement of cars and 
coaches, &c., — varies from that pursued 
in America, but which, after all, involves 
only different yet about equally good 
methods for reaching the same results as 
are obtained in America by other and not 
always superior means. Their subdivision 
of passenger coaches in coupes or sectional 
compartments, each seating six, eight, or 
ten persons when full, and having no 
means of direct communication with each 
other or with the other cars of the train, 
is one of the features peculiar to foreign 
roads, and another which may be men- 
tioned is the retiring rooms provided at 
the various stations, instead of having 
any such conveniences upon ordinary pas- 
senger and express trains. Other features 



652 



EIGHTY THOUSAND MILES IN HALF A CENTURY. 



to be named in the foreign system is that 
of having guards upon passenger trains, 
who do not control the movements of the 
trains, their position being thus quite in« 
ferior to that of the American conductor, 
and the management of their trains b}' 
telegraphic signals from the principal sta- 
tions, as is the case upon some lines, and 
which is found to be such an effective 
safeguard. 

The elevated railway, for cities, is thus 
far peculiar to America; its extensive in- 
troduction, notwithstanding its acknowl- 
edged drawbacks, seems to be only a mat- 
ter of time, and that in the nenr future. 



the heads of pedestrians and on awnings, 
to the diffusion of dirt into upper windows, 
to the increased danger of life from runa- 
way horses and the breaking of vehicles 
against the iron columns, to tlie darkening 
of lower stories and shading of the streets 
so that the same are kept damp long iifter 
wet weather has ceased, and to numerous 
other accidents and annoyances inherent 
to such a system of traveling; but these 
inconveniences and risks appear to have 
fallen considerably short of the predictions, 
and at least are submitted to with that 
facility of adaptation to the inevitable, 
which is a characteristic trait of Americans. 




METlturoLITA.N ELKVATKl) 

That there is to be a widely extended 
introduction of elevated railroads, in the 
populous and crowded cities, there would 
seem little ground for doubting, notwith- 
standing the objections which were at first 
raised against such a mode of passenger 
transit. In the city of New York, for in- 
stance, it was declared that, for the privi- 
lege of such conve^'ance, the citizens must 
habituate themselves to trains thundering 
over tlieir heads, to thoroughfares blocked 
with great iron columns, to the liberal dis- 
tribution of ashes and oil and sparks upon 



KAILKOAIt. M-:W VIH{K. 

The capacities of inventors have re- 
ceived a new stimulus, by the needs of 
this kind of locomotion, and many and in- 
teresting are the improvements which have 
been brought forward already in this direc- 
tion, relating respectively to tracks, car.=, 
engines, etc. That the elevated railroad 
has a great future before it, in most of our 
great and crowded cities, would appear to 
be unquestionable; for, notwithstanding 
its acknowledged drawbacks, it is admitted 
to be a well nigh indispensable public coq- 
venience. 



Lxxvin. 

BURNING OF THE CITY OF CHICAGO, ILL., THE COM- 
MERCIAL METROPOLIS OF THE NORTH- 
WEST.— 1871. 



Most Destructive Conflagration in tlie History of Civilized Nations.— A Thirty Hours' Tornado of Fire 
in all Directions.— Vast Billows of Inextinguishable Flame.— Upwards of Two Thousand Acres, or 
Seventy-three Miles of Streets, with 17,450 Buildings, Destroyed : Loss, .?200,000,000.— Ignoble Ori- 
gin of the Fire.— Fatal Mistake of a Policeman. — Combustibles all Around. — A Strong Gale Prevail- 
ing.— Frightful Rapidity of the Flames.— Destruction of the Water-Works— Stores and Warehouses 
Swept Away.— Palaces and Hovels a Common Prey.— Engines Sent from Seven States.— The Mid- 
night Scene.— Terror Indescribable.— Flight for Life.— Burning of the Bridges.— Helplessness, Des- 
peration, Death —Churches, Hotels, Theaters, in Ashes —Fate of the Newspapers, Banks, etc.— 
Kxplosion of the Gas-Works.- Tombs and Graves Consumed— Most Ghastly Spectacle.— Nearly 
100,000 Persons Homeless.- The Wail for Help.— A World's Sympathies Poured Forth. 



•• Blackened and bleeding, panting, prone 

On the charred fru^iiients of her shattered throne, 

ijea dhe who ato-jj, but yeaterday, alone.*"— Bbet HaeTE. 




SIR. OGDEX'S HO03E UNTOUCHED IS THE MIDST OF THE GREAT FIEE. 



^^^^^^^^N Sunday and Monday, October eighth and ninth, 1871, there 
— ""^"^^feifel occurred in Chicago, the great commercial metropolis of the 
_ _^^. ^, __ If north-west, a fire unparalleled in the history of the world. 
"^S^- Z°0^ The fire originated in a small frame structure in the rear of 

^ '^'- jJo. 137 DeKoven street, used as a cow-stable. It was dis- 

covered at about half-past nine o'clock in the evening, by a policeman, when it was 
very small, and who, hoping to extinguish it without sounding an alarm, set himself to 



654 



BURNING OF CHICAGO. 



work to do so, — a fatal miscalculation, as 
the result soon j)roved. A strong souili- 
westerly wind was blowing at the time ; 
no rain had fallen for several weeks previ- 
ous ; and conseqnently all combustible 
matter was prepared for ready ignition. 
It was alao a portion of the city occupied 
by the poorer classes, principally Bolic- 
mian emigrant families, and being in the 
vicinity of several planing mills, shingle 
mills, and factories, had collected a large 
quantity of shavings from these places, 
and stored them in the basements and 
yards of their premises for winter use. 

All the fire apparatus of the city was 
brought into requisition, and, considering 
the diflSculties to be encountered, the cour- 
age and energy of the firemen could not 
be surpassed. They had just passed 
through a severe fire twenty-four hours 
previous, and part of the companies had 
left the scene of the Saturday night fire 
but a few hours, when they were again 
called, exhausted with hard labor, to this 
fearful scene. 

The flames shot with frightful rapidity 
from house to house and from board-3'ard 
to board-yard, ail human means appearing 
utterly powerless to stay their progress. 
On they went, in a northerly direction, 
covering a space of two or three blocks in 
width, until the burnt district of the pre- 
vious night's fire was reached, and this 
served the purpose of preventing their 
farther spread on the west side of the 
river. Sweeping every thing in their 
course, up to the locality named, the 
flames leaped across the river, and vio- 
lently communicated with the buildings 
there. Quickly they traveled north, de- 
vouring everything as they went, until 
that section of the south division which 
embraced nearly all the grandest struct- 
ures and thoroughfares was reached, and 
there seemed to be no encouragement to 
farther efforts to save the city from its 
fiery doom. Unfortunately, one of the 
first public buildings reached by the fire 
was the water-works ; this cut off the 
water supply, rendering the fire depart- 
ment useless. 



The awful gale which prevailed filled 
the air with live coals, and hurled to an 
immense distance, in every direction, blaz- 
ing brands and boards, — a widespread 
besom of furious destruction. All of the 
leading banks of the city, several of the 
stone church edifices, costly and elegant 
in the extreme; the beautiful railroad 
depot of the Michigan Southern and the 
Eock Island railway companies, also that 
of the Illinois Central and the Michigan 
Central railroads; the court-house and the 
chamber of commerce ; the Sherman, Tre- 
mont, Briggs, Palmer, Bigelow, Metropol- 
itan, and several other hotels, as well as 
the gigantic Pacific, which was in process 
of construction ; all the great newspaper 
establishments; the Crosby opera-house, 
McVicker's theater, and every other prom- 
inent place of amusement; the post-office, 
telegraph offices, Farwtll hall, the mag- 
nificent Drake-Farwell block, the stately 
dry goods palaces of J. V. Farwell & Co., 
Field, Leiter & Co., scores of elegant resi- 
dences in Wabash and Michigan avenues, 
numbers of elevators in which were stored 
millions of bushels of grain; in fact, all 
that the hand of man had fashioned or 
reared was completely swept away, as the 
fire madly rushed to the north. 

With tremendous force, the mighty and 
uncontrollable element, rushing to the 
main channel of the river, near its en- 
trance into Lake Michigan, consumed the 
bridges, and attacked the north division 
with relentless fury. All dav, on Mon- 
day, and through the succeeding night, it 
waged its work of devastation, advancing, 
with wonderful speed, from block to block, 
and from street to street, over a vast sur- 
face, sparing scarcely anything. The 
destruction of palatial residences and mag- 
nificent churches continued, while stores 
and dwellings by the hundreds, together 
with the costly water-works, the north side 
gas-works. Rush medical college, the Chi- 
cago and North-western railway depot, sev- 
eral immense breweries, coal 3ards, lum- 
ber yards, and manufacturing establish- 
ments of various kinds, and in great 
numbers, yielded to the resistless enemy. 



BURNING OF CHICAGO. 



655 



By inidiiiglit, nearlj^ tlie entire popula- 
tion of the city had been aroused, and the 
streets, for an immense distance surround- 
ing the scene of the disaster, were thronged 
with excited, swaying humanity, and with 
all descriptions of vehicles, pressed into 
service for the hasty removal of household 
goods and personal effects ; loading and 
unloading, here, and there, and every- 
where, was going on in promiscuous con- 
fusion. Invalids and cripples were car- 
ried away on improvised ambulances; 
aged women and helpless infants were 
hastily borne to places of supposed safety ; 
people who were utterly overcome with 
excitement and fatigue were seen sleeping 
on lounges, trunks and tables, in the 
street ; and empty houses were forcibly 
broken open and taken possession of by 
homeless wanderers, made desperate by the 
awful surroundings. 

One of the most fearfully thrilling 
scenes of the great conflagration, as nar- 
rated, occurred in the eastern section of 
the north division. When it became ajs- 
parent that all hope of saving the city was 
lost, after the flames had pushed down to 
the main branch of the river, the citizens 
of the north side, who were over to see the 
main theater of the fire, thought it time 
to go over to their own division, and save 
what they could. Accordingly, they beat 
a rapid retreat toward the tunnel and 
bridges. The former of these thorough- 
fares was impassable at three o'clock. 
Clark street had not been opened for some 
time, and State street was in a blaze from 
one end to the other. Rush street bridge 
proved to be the only means of getting 
away from the south side, and over that 
bridge the affrighted fugitives poured in 
thousands. Their flight was not quicker 
than was the advance of the flames. The 
latter jumped the river with miraculous 
swiftness, and ran along the northern sec- 
tion like lightning. So rapid was the 
march of the fiery element, driven by the 
heavy gale, that the people were glad 
enough to escape unscathed. Everything 
was abandoned. Horses and wagons were 
used merely as a means of Hight. Few 



persons in the direct course of the fire 
thought about saving anything but their 
lives and those of their families, such were 
the speed, and power, and omnipresence of 
the destroj'er. Having reached Chicago 
avenue, the conflagration took an eastward 
turn, and cut off fiom flight northward all 
who remained in the unburned section ly- 
ing between Dearborn street and the lake. 
The inhabitants of that district flattered 
themselves that their homes might escape 
the general destruction. But the gale 
changed its course in a few minutes more 
toward the east, and the entire quarter of 
the city specified became a frightful pen, 
having a wall of fire on three sides and the 
fierce rolling lake on the other. 

And now a scene transpired, which, as 
described, was scarcely ever equaled. 
The houses were abandoned in all haste. 
Into wagons were thrown furniture, cloth- 
ing, and bedding. Mothers caught up 
their infants in their arras. Men dragged 
along the aged and helpless, and the en- 
tire horror-stricken multitude beat their 
course to the sands. It was a hegira 
never to be forgotten. 

Even the homes of the dead were sought 
for as food by the all-devouring element; 
for, after ravaging to the limits of the 
city, and with the wind dead against it, 
the fire caught the dried grasses, ran along 
the fences, and in a moment covered in a 
burning glory the Catholic cemetery and 
the grassy stretches of Lincoln park. 
The marbles over the graves cracked and 
baked, and fell in glowing embers on the 
hot turf. Flames shot up from the rest- 
ing places of the dead, and the living fugi- 
tives, screaming with terror, made, for a 
moment, one of the ghastliest spectacles 
ever beheld. The receiving-vault, solidly 
built, and shrouded by foliage, fell under 
the terrific flame, and the corpses dropped 
or burst from the cofiins, as the fire tore 
through the walls of the frightful charnel- 
house. 

On the fire obtaining strong and over- 
powering headway, the flames seemed to 
go in all directions ; in some places, like 
huge waves, dashing to and fro, leaping 



tioG 



BUENING OF CHICAGO. 



up and down, turning and twisting, and 
pouring, now and tiien, a vast column of 
smoke and blaze hundreds of feet into the 
air, like a solid, perpendicular shaft of 
molten metal. In other places, it would 
dart out long streaks or serpentine shapes, 
which swooped down over the blazing path 
into some of the yet unburnt buildings, 
which seemed pierced, and kindled instan- 
taneously. There were also billows of 
flame, that rolled along like water, utterly 
submerging everj'thing in their course. 
Here and there, when some lofty building 
became sheeted in flame, the walls would 
weaken and waver like india-rubber; they 
sometimes swayed almost across the street, 
and immediately fell with a direful crash ; 
a momentary darkness followed, and then 
fresh glares of light from a newly kindled 
fire. The kerosene-oil stores made an 
awful but sublime displaj', as the tower- 
ing flames rolled aloft, seeming to pene- 
trate the very heavens. 

The huge iron reservoir of the gas-works 
exploded with tremendous force and sound, 
demolishing the adjacent buildings, and 
the very earth seemed actually belching 
out fire. The walls of white marble, the 
buff limestone of Illinois, the red and olive 
sandstones of Ohio and Marquette, the 
speckled granite of Minnesota, and the blue 
Lockport limestone of New York, all aj)- 
peared to suffer about alike in the ravag- 
ing element. Everything the power of 
wind and flame could level met that doom ; 
everything it could lift was swept away. 
The furious fire consumed its own smoke, 
leaving but few traces of stain upon the 
bare standing walls. 

In a comparatively short space of time, 
aearly all the public buildings were either 
consumed or in flames, — hotels, theaters, 
churches, court-house, railway depots, 
banks, water-works, gas-works, and thou- 
sanils of dwellings, stores, warehouses, and 
manufactories, with all their vast and val- 
uable contents, were whelmed in one com- 
mon vortex of ruin. The fire engines 
were powerless. The streams of water 
appeared to dry up the moment they 
touched the flames. An attempt was 



made to blow up the buildings , but this 
availed little, the high wind carrying the 
flaming brands far across the space thus 
cleared away. To add to the horrors of 
the scene, the wooden pavements in some 
places took fire, driving the firemen from 
stations where their precious efforts might 
possibly have been available. But noth- 
ing could long resist the terrible heat of 
the flames, which seemed to strike right 
through the most solid walls. Buildings 
supposed to be absolutely fire-proof burned 
like tinder, and crumbled to pieces like 
charred paper. Engines and fire-appa- 
ratus had arrived from seven different 
States, and the working force was prodig- 
ious, but all this was of no avail. 

According to the most reliable estimate, 
the number of acres burned over in the 
West Division of the city, where the fire 
originated, was nearly two hundred, in- 
cluding sixteen acres which were laid bare 
by the fire of the previous evening. This 
district contained about five hundred build- 
ings, averaging four or five occupants each. 
These buildings were generally of the 
poorer class, and comprised a great many 
boarding-houses, saloons, and minor hotels, 
with a few factories, also several lumber 
and coal yards and planing mills, a grain 
elevator, and a depot. 

In the South Division, the burned area 
comprised some four hundred and sixty 
acres. With the exception of the Lind 
block, on the river bank, between Ran- 
dolph and Lake streets, it included all 
north of an irregular line running diago- 
nally from the intersection of Polk street 
with the river, to the corner of Congress 
street and Michigan avenue. This dis- 
trict, though comparatively small in ex- 
tent, was by far the most valuable in the 
city, — the very heart and head of Chicago 
as a commercial center. It contained the 
great majority of all those structures 
which were at once costly in themselves, 
and filled with the wealth of merchandise 
that made the city the great emporium of 
the North-west. All the wholesale stores 
of any considerable magnitude, all the 
daily and weekly newspaper offices, all the 



658 



BURNING OF CHICAGO. 



principal lianks, (lis leading hotels, manj- 
extensive factories, all the offices of insur- 
ance men, lawyers, produce brokers, etc., 
the custom-house, court-house, chamber of 
commerce, all the prominent public halls 
and places of amusement, many coal yards, 
the monster Central railroad depot, with 
its various buildings for the transaction of 
business of the Illinois Central, Michigan 
Central, and Chicago, Burlington and 
Quincy railroads, &c., &c. There were 
nearly thirty-seven hundred buildings de- 
stroyed in this division, including sixteen 
hundred stores, twenty-eight hotels, sixty 
manufacturing establishments, and the 
homes of about twenty-two thousand 
people. 

In the North Division, the flames swept 
nearly fifteen hundred acres, destroj'ing 
thirteen thousand three hundred buildings, 
the homes of nearly seventy-five thousand 
people. These structures included more 
than six hundred stores and one hundred 
manufacturing establishments, including 
jMcCormick's reaper factory, a sugar refin- 
erj', box mills, etc. The lake shore, from 
Chicago avenue north, was lined with 
breweries. The river banks were piled 
high with lumber and coal, three grain 
elevators stood near the fork of the river, 
and near them the Galena depot. Many 
hotels, and private storehouses for produce 
and other property, also existed in this 
neighborhood, and the wholesale meat 
markets on Kinzie street were a busy cen- 
ter of trade. North Clark, Wells, and 
North and Chicago avenues, were princi- 
pally occupied by retail stores. 

The total area burned over was two 
thousand one hundred and twenty-four 
acres, or almost three and one-third square 
miles. This area contained about seventy- 
three miles of streets, and seventeen thou- 
sand four hundred and fifty buildings, the 
homes of nearly one hundred thousand 
people. All this transpired in the brief 
space of thirty hours, and the aggregate 
loss was not far from $200,000,000. But 
saddest of all was the great loss of life, the 
precise extent of which will probably 
never be known. 



For a city thus suddenly and tragically 
overwhelmed m ruin, the sympathies of the 
whole civilized world were spontaneously 
poured forth, and, in response to the cry for 
help that went up from her borders, instant 
and abundant relief was sent from every 
part of the Union. The national govern- 
ment, at the instance of Lieut. Gen. Sher- 
idan, — whose activity in endeavoring to 
stay the progress of the conflagration, and, 
subsequently, in preserving order, was so 
conspicuous, — sent thousands of tents and 
army rations ; societies and private citi- 
zens sent money, clothing, and provis- 
ions ; railroad companies dispatched spe- 
cial trains laden with these gifts; and in 
every city and town, public meetings v, ere 
held, and money raised to aid the homeless 
and suffering. From Canada and Europe, 
too, came assurances of sympathy and 
proffers of assistance. The total value of 
the charities thus bestowed, in provisions, 
clothing, and monpy, amounted to millions 
of dollars, all of which was distributed 
with such promptness and wisdom that 
despair was forestalled, epidemic disease 
prevented, and hope kindled in the hearts 
of all. 

To narrate more than a few of the many 
instances of heroism, affection, tragedy 
and crime, incident to a disaster so wide- 
spread and awful, would be simply impossi- 
ble. Gangs of armed ruffians were every- 
where patrolling about, hunting for plunder, 
and breaking into safes with impunity, — 
remonstrance was met with a deadly blow, 
and few had the temerity to interfere. 
Heated with whiskey and excitement, they 
caused a complete reign of terror, and, 
though the mayor had issued a proclama- 
tion directing the closing of the saloons, 
no attention was paid to it, and the disor- 
derly element had its own sway. 

In Wabash and Michigan avenues, and, 
indeed, in all the places where the richer 
classes lived, the scenes enacted were un- 
paralleled. Women who had never known 
what a care was, and consequently were, 
as would be supposed, utterly incapable of 
bearing with courage such a calamity as 
the destruction of their homes, displayed 



BURNING OP CHICAGO. 



65y 



instances of heroism and love worthy to 
be written of in story and song. Thus, a 
prominent lady of Wabash avenue had 
been deserted by her servants as soon as 
it became certain that the house was 
doomed ; they went off, taking with them 
whatever they could lay their hands on. 
She, her daughter, and her invalid hus- 
band, were alone in the house, and tlie 
flames were rapidly approaching. There 
was not a moment to spare, and the two 
women carried away in their arms the 
sick man, and brought him in safety be- 
yond the reach of the fire. 

The most pitiable sights were the sick 
children, half dead, Ij'ing crouched on the 
sidewalks, in many cases with barely any 
covering on them. A pathetic scene 
was noticed on the corner of La Salle 
and Eandolph streets, where two little 
girls were lying, terror-stricken, by the 
side of their dead sister, whose re- 
mains presented a harrowing spectacle. 
She had been too late to escape from 
under a falling building on Clark street, 
and had then been extricated and borne 
away to the corner by her almost perish- 
ing sisters. 

The preservation of Mr. Ogden's resi- 
dence, solitary and alone, in the very heart 
of the fire, was one of the most memorable 
incidents in the history of this great dis- 
aster. The happy result in this case was 
accounted for by the fact that the house, 
a large and comfortable frame structure, 
was in the middle of a block, all the other 
lots of which formed its elegant garden. 
On the streets upon its four sides were not 
many large buildings; while just as the 
f.re approached it from the south-west 
there was a slight lull iu the fury of the 



wind. This allowed the flames to shoot 
straighter into the air, and, before the 
fiery tempest had again bent them forward 
in search of further fuel, the structures 
upon which they were immediately feed- 
ing had been reduced to ashes, and a brealc 
made in the terrible wall of fire. The 
exertions of Mr. Ogden and his family, in 
covering the roof and walls of the house 
with carpets, quilts, and blankets, which 
were kept constantly wet with water from 
a cistern which happened to be in his place, 
also aided materially in the saving of their 
home, which was the only unharmed build- 
ing for miles ! 

One of the most notable events was the 
fate of the Tribune building, erected at 
great cost, and, as it was supposed, with 
undoubted fire-proof qualities. A wide 
space had been burned around it, and its 
safety was thought to be assured. A pa- 
trol of men swept off live coals and put 
out fires in the side walls, and another 
patrol watched the roofs. Up to four 
o'clock in the morning, the reporters had 
sent in detailed accounts of the fire. At 
five o'clock the forms were sent down. 
In ten minutes the two eight-cylinders in 
the press-room would have been throwing 
off the morning paper. Then the front 
basement was discovered to be on fire. 
The plug on the corner was tapped, but 
there was no water. The pressmen were 
driven from their presses. The attach(;3 
of the establishment said good-bye to the 
finest newspaper office in the western 
country, and withdrew to a place of 
safety. In a very short time the building 
was enveloped in fire, and by ten o'clock 
the whole magnificent structure was a mass 
of blackened ruina. 



LXXIX. 

THE NATIONAL GRANGE MOVEMENT.— 1873. 



Popular Organizations in the Interests of Labor. — Changes Sought in the Relations between Producers 
and Consumers. — General Declaration of Principles and Aims. — A System of Universal Co-operation 
Proposed. — Results to be Realized by such Combinations. — Patrons of Husbandry and Sovereigns of 
Industry. — Initiative Proceedings in 1867. — First Grange Founded in Washington, D. C. — Agricul- 
ture the Grand Basis. — Mutual Protection and Advancement. — Small Encouragement at the Begin- 
ning. — Immense Growth in Five Years. — Activity in the West and South. — Social and Moral Aspects. 
— Plan of Business Action. — Partisan Prejudices Disavowed — No Political Tests Involved. — Opin- 
ions of Eminent Leaders Cited. — Views of Foreign Publicists. — Vital Point in the New System. — 
Commercial and Financial Theories. — Grain and Cotton Products. — Alleged Errors in Trade Cus- 
toms. — Individual vs. Associated Efforts. — ' Middlemen ' a Disadvantage. — Substitute for Their Inter- 
vention — The Case Illustrated. — Difficulties and Remedies. 



•* The ultimate object of this or^nnizatioTi is for mutual inBtructi.m nnd protection, to Hehten labor by diffusini- a knowledge of iti alma 
and purposes, expand ttie mind by tracinff the beautiful la'^a tlic ereit Creator has eelabliflbed in the utuveree, aud to enlarge our views of 
Creative wisdom and power."— Constitdtion of thk Naxioital Grange. 



^ %,'3&""'^^'^.#' 1|»NE of the most active and vigorous co-operative bodies which have 
*'"'^' been organized, on a popular basis, within the last few years of the 

national century, and which now has its associate 
representation in almost all parts of the country, 
is what is known as the National Grangers — and, 
similarly. Patrons of Husbandry, and Sovereigns 
of Industry, — devoted, as these names imply, to 
the interests of agricultural labor, and kindred in- 
dustries. Their greatest strength is found in the 
western portion of the republic, though by 
no means confined to that section, affiliated 
branches of the order being found, in a more 
or less flourishing condition, m the southern, 
eastern, and Pacific regions, as well. 

Though dating the initiative of its existence 
no earlier than 1867, it was not, in fact, until 
1872, that the order became sufficiently for- 
midable in numbers and influence to attract 
wide-spread attention. As illustrating, how- 
ever, the rapid growth which, in time, charac- 
terized this movement, it is stated that, in August, 1867, Messrs. 0. H. Kelley and 
William Saunders, at that time connected with the government departments in Wash- 
ington, D. C., and known as intelligent and far-seeing observers of public affairs in 




|y^S||||;2 



.,IV 



NATIONAL GRANGE MOVEMENT. 



661 



their relations to business and labor, — both 
gentlemen having been farmers, and long 
identified with that class, — conceived the 
idea of forming a society, having for its 
object their mutual instruction and pro- 
tection. 

In this view, they were joined, on con- 
sultation, by others, and a circular was 
drawn up, embracing the various points it 
was deemed desirable to embody, in pre- 
senting the plan of the Grange to the 
country. On the 4th of December, 1867, 
in Washington, D. C, the first Grange 
was organized, being officered as follows : 
William Saunders, master ; J. E. Thomp- 
son, lecturer; Rev. A. B. Grosh, chaplain; 
0. H. Kelley, secretary. This became the 
National Grange. Soon after, a subordi- 
nate grange was established in that city, 
as a school of instruction, and to test the 
efficiency of the ritual. This grange num- 
bered about sixty members. In April, 
1868, ilr. Kelley was appointed to the 
position of traveling agent. The first dis- 
pensation was issued for a grange at Har- 
risburg, Pa. ; the second at Fredonia, N. 
Y. ; the third at Columbus, 0. ; the next 
at Chicago, 111. In Minnesota, six granges 
were organized. Thus, the whole number 
during the first year was but ten : in 1869, 
thirty-nine dispensations were granted ; in 
1870, thirty-eight ; in 1871, one hundred 
and twenty-five ; and during the next year, 
more than eight hundred dispensations for 
subordinate granges were issued from the 
headquarters at Washington, and the total 
increase during 1872 was rising eleven 
hundred. 

The declaration of princii^les put forth, 
authoritativelj', by the national grange, 
leaves no room for doubt as to the charac- 
ter and purposes avowed by this now pow- 
erful order. Starting with the proclama- 
tion of union by the strong and faithful 
tie of Agriculture, with a mutual resolve 
to labor for the good of the order, the 
country, and mankind, and indorsing the 
motto, 'In essentials, unity, in non-essen- 
tials liberty, in all things charity,' the 
following specific objects are set forth 
as those characterizing the order and 



by which the cause is to be advanced, 
namely : 

To develop a better and higher man- 
hood and womanhood among those consti- 
tuting the order ; to enhance the comforts 
and attractions of home, and strengthen 
the attachment to their pursuits ; to foster 
mutual understanding and co-operation ; 
to maintain inviolate the laws, and emu- 
late each other in hastening the good time 
coming ; to reduce expenses, both individ- 
ual and co-operate ; to buy less and pro- 
duce more, in order to make their farms 
self-sustaining; to diversify crops, and 
crop no more than can be cultivated ; to 
condense the weight of exports, selling less 
in the bushel and more on hoof and in 
fleece ; to systematize work, and calculate 
intelligently on probabilities ; to discon- 
tinue the credit system, the mortgage sys- 
tem, the fashion system, and every other 
system tending to prodigality and bank- 
ruptcy; to meet together, talk together, 
work together, buy and sell together, and 
in general act together for mutual protec- 
tion and advancement, as association may 
require; to avoid litigation as much as 
possible, by arbitration in the grange ; to 
constantly strive to secure entire harmony, 
good will, and vital brotherhood, and to 
make the Order perpetual ; to endeavor to 
suppress personal, local, sectional and na- 
tional prejudices, all unhealthy rivalry, and 
all selfish ambition. 

In regard to the principles and aims of 
this organization in respect to business, — 
concerning which much public discussion 
has taken place, — the statement is made 
by the order, authoritatively and explic- 
itly, that it aims to bring producers and 
consumers, farmers and manufacturers, 
into the most direct and friendly relation 
possible, and, in order to fulfill this, it is 
necessary that a surplus of middlemen be 
dispensed with, — not in any spirit of un- 
friendliness to them, but because such a 
class is not needed, their surplus and ex- 
actions diminishing the raiser's profits. 

Emphatically disavowing anj' intention 
to wage aggressive warfare against other 
interests, the grangers assert that all their 



662 



NATIONAL GRANGE MOVEMENT. 



acts and efforts, so far as business is con- 
cerned, are not only for tlie benefit of the 
producer and consumer, but also for all 
other interests that tend to bring these 
two parties into speedy and economical 
contact; hence, they hold that trunsportii- 
tion companies of every kind are necessary, 
that the interests of such companies are 
intimately connected with the welfare of 
the grange, harmonious action being mu- 
tually advantageous, — keeping in view one 



While declaring themselves as not the ene- 
mies of railroads, navigable and irrigating 
canals, nor of any corporations that will 
advance industrial welfare, nor yet of any 
laboring classes, the grangers are opposed 
to such spirit and management of any cor- 
poration, or enterprise, as tend to oppress 
the people and rob them of their just 
profit; and, while not enemies to capital, 
they oppose the tyranny of monopolies, and 
urge that the antagonism between capital 




SVMnOLS OF THE CO-OPERATIVE LABOU OnOANIZATIONS. 



of the primary bases of action upon wliich 
the order rests, namely, that individual 
happiness depends upon general prosperitj*. 
To this end, the order advocates for 
every state the increase, in every practica- 
ble way, of all facilities for transporting 
cheaply to the seaboard, or between home 
producers and consumers, all the produc- 
tions of the country, the fixed purpose of 
action being, in this respect, to open out 
the channels in nature's great arteries, that 
the life-blood of commerce may flow freely. 



and labor be removed by common consent, 
and by enlightened statesmanship worthy 
of the nineteenth century. Opposition is de- 
clared, also, to excessive salaries, high rates 
of interest, and exorbitant per cent, profits 
in trade, as greatl\' increasing the burdens 
of the people, and bearing no proper pro- 
piirtion to the profits of producers. 

The relations of the grange movement 
to political parties and questions have 
formed, almost from the first, the subject 
of universal criticism. It is emphatically 



NATIONAL GRANGE IMOVEMENT. 



663 



declared, however, as the oft-repeated truth 
taught in the orgauic law of the order, that 
the grange, national, state, or subordinate, 
is not a political or party organization; 
and yet, while no grange, if true to its obli- 
gations, can discuss political or religious 
questions, nor call political conventions or 
nominate candidates, nor ever discuss their 
merits in its meetings, the principles enun- 
ciated by the order are, it is claimed, such 
as underlie all true politics and all true 
statesmanship, and, if properly carried out, 
tending to purify the whole political atmos- 
phere of the country ; that, though seek- 
ing the greatest good to the greatest num- 
ber, no one by becoming a grange member 
gives up that inalienable right and duty 
which belong to every American citizen, 
to take a proper interest in the politics of 
h s country. On the contrary, the grange 
pronounces it to be the right and duty of 
every member to do all in his power legiti- 
mately to influence, for good, the action of 
any political party to which he belongs ; 
that it is his duty to do all he can, in his 
own party, to put down bribery, corrup- 
tion, and trickery, — to see that none but 
competent, faithful, and honest men, who 
will unflinchingly stand by the interests of 
the order are nominated for all positions of 
trust, — the governing principle in this re- 
spect to be, that the office should seek the 
man and not the man the office. The 
broad principle is acknowledged, that dif- 
ference of opinion is no crime, and that 
progress towards truth is made by differ- 
ences of opinion, while the fault lies in bit- 
terness of controversy. A proper equality, 
aquity and fairness, protection for the 
weak, restraint upon the strong, — in short, 
justly distributed burdens, and justly dis- 
tributed power, — the grange holds to be 
American ideas, the very essence of Amer- 
ican independence, to advocate the con- 
trary being unworthy the sons and daugh- 
ters of an American republic. Cherishing 
the belief, too, that sectionalism is and of 
right should be dead and buried with the 
past, the order declares its work to be for 
the present and future, and consequently 
recognizes in its agricultural brotherhood. 



and its associational purposes, no north, 
no south, no east, no west, and to every 
member is reserved the freeman's right to 
affiliate with anj' party that will best carry 
out his principles. 

The wonderful growth of the grange 
movement, especially throughout the west, 
is asserted by Mr. J. K. Hudson, an in- 
telligent and reliable authority, to have 
been without a parallel in the history of 
associational movements in this country; 
and this fact he attributes to the condition 
of the public mind which existed at the 
time of the founding of the movement, — 
the prevailing feeling of distrust towards 
the organized interests of every kind then 
existing, the common indignation against 
the injustice of the unfair distribution of 
profits, the prevailing discrimination 
against agricultural labor which was, year 
after year, constantly kept alive in the 
minds of the farmers of the west by the 
fast decreasing profits, buying goods sold 
at heavy profits, paying burdensome taxes 
brought upon them by unscrupulous rings 
which had squandered and stolen the pub- 
lic funds, while the result of the year's 
product and sale showed a loss to honest 
labor. 

Such a remarkable feature in American 
life as the rise and progress of this move- 
ment has not failed to attract attention in 
foreign lands, and particularly in England. 
Thus, at the Social Science Congress of 
Great Britain, assembled in 1875, the Earl 
of Roseberry, president of the association, 
after speaking of the various ' Unions ' to 
be found in the United States, such as the 
Sons of Toil, the Brethren of Labor, etc., 
characterized as incomparably above these, 
"the gigantic association of Patrons of 
Husbandry, commonly called the Grange, 
a great agricultural, co-operative, inde- 
pendent union. Its progress has been 
amazing. Its first grange, or lodge, was 
formed in the last month of 1867 ; there 
are at this moment 20,500, with 1,311,226 
members, and at the end of the year it is 
certain that they will have thirty thousand, 
with two million members. The order is 
practically identified with the agricultural 



664 



NATIONAL GR^VNGE MOVEMENT. 




NATIONAL GRANGE MOVEMENT. 



665 



population of twenty-six states, and with 
two-thirds of the farmers in ten others. 
In Missouri alone there are said to be 
2,150 granges; they are making their 
way in Canada. Pennsj'lvania began the 
year with six lodges, and at this moment 
she has eight hundred." In regard to the 
cause of this prodigious increase, the earl 
thinks it easily accounted for, in view of 
the fact that, as alleged, the membership 
adds not less than fifty per cent, to the 
income of the order; and their enterprise 
and importance are furtjier made manifest 
by the fact, as stated, that the California 
grangers have their own fleet, and ship 
their corn direct to Liverpool, by which 
they saved two million dollars, in freights, 
in a single year, — their vessels bringing, 
as return cargoes, tea, sugar, coffee, silk, 
and other commodities, which are retailed 
to members at cost price, and a system is 
being organized by which their ships re- 
turn with loads of every foreign article 
which the members may need, thus mak- 
ing them an independent mercantile na- 
tion. In a similar strain, it is remarked 
by Mr. Leavitt, an ardent advocate of the 
order, that, although the fact be a disa- 
greeable one to some classes of non-pro- 
ducers, it is none the less undeniable that 
the rugged health of the movement arises 
from its direct bearing upon the pockets 
of its members, — the chief advantage be- 
ing the wholesale buying and selling 
which is done through the machinery of 
the order, differing, of course, in different 
states ; thus, in the west, a large part of 
the gain is from the wholesale disposal of 
grain, and its handling through grange 
elevators, while, in the south, planters 
have saved large sums by using the grange 
agents in disposing of their cotton. 

This last named consideration appears 
to be a vital point in the principles and 
aims of the grangers, and is urged very 
strongly in the writings of those who are 
the acknowledged spokesmen of the order. 
According to the argument of Mr. Aiken, 
a leading member at the south, the philos- 
ophy of the order is based upon the idea 
of affording mutual benefit to the producer 



and consumer by bringing them together. 
This position he enforces by stating the 
disadvantage the farmer labors under, by 
the system of trade at present carried on. 
To dispose of his crop as he pleases, says 
Mr. Aiken, is an enjoyable privilege, and, 
when he exchange* his products for the 
cash in hand he experiences a satisfaction 
not suggested by the receipt of bills of sale 
made at a distance ; those who buy from 
the farmer in a home market, however, 
are most generally speculators, or ' middle- 
men ' of the genuine stamp ; they buy 
simply to sell at a profit, and if they, by 
their better judgment and astuteness, can 
realize a handsome profit upon their in- 
vestment, they should not be condemned 
as tradesmen. If A buys B's crop, and 
nets fifty per cent, upon the purchase, he 
was no more to blame than B was for sell- 
ing to him ; both transactions were legiti- 
mate, but the result would show there was 
something erroneous in this method of 
dealing — the error was that farmer B did 
not properly comprehend the ' tricks of 
trade,' he had not studied the difference 
between wholesale and retail, between lo- 
cal and through freights, between individ- 
ual and combined efforts, between isola- 
tion and co-operation. The purchase of a 
single article, the shipment of a single 
crop, the efforts of a single individual, are 
all alike in their results, and of minor 
importance to tradesmen ; but where the 
purchases are made by wholesale, crops 
are grouped together for shipment, and the 
entire transaction submitted to a single 
disbursing agent, the commission on sales 
is diminished, the cost of transportation 
is reduced, and the aggregated profits be- 
come a handsome amount. Just so the 
' middleman ' acts ; he buys individuallj', 
but groups his purchases and ships col- 
lectively, — is his own disbursing agent, 
and pockets the results of his profitable 
labors. It is exactly in this capacity that 
the grange proposes to act for the farmer. 
Similar in its spirit and principles of 
fraternity and co-operation is the organiza- 
tion, so increasingly' prosperous, known as 
the Sovereigns of Industry. As defined 



6CG 



NATIONAL GRANGE MOVEMENT. 



by Mr. Alger, a prominent exponent of 
the society's aims, its members maintain 
that the true desideratum is to raise the 
quality and quantity of every sort of use- 
ful production to the maximum, and to 
reduce the cost both of creation and distri- 
bution to the minimum ; and, with this 
end in view, holding that men should be 
producers of good in some form, and that 
their sum of goods will be perfected by 
equitable exchanges, they have already 
begun the systematic organization of a 
method of bringing all kinds of producers 
and consumers into direct contact, tor 
their common gain and to the universal 
advantage, — the system being intended to 
prevent the waste of labor, and to put an 
end to the exaction of profit without any 
correspondent creation of value or use, and 
to swallow up the bitter rivalries an^ ani- 
mosities of labor and capital and trade in 
an inclusive harmonizing of them all. In 
the further declaration of tJbie purD0se.«i o^^ 



the order, upon which its action as above 
indicated is based, it is urged that the 
master principle of a true civilization must 
be the direct application of labor to the 
production of the goods of life. In utter 
opposition, however, to this, is the applica- 
tion of artifice to obtain money from those 
who possess it, in order that the obtainer 
may command the goods of life without 
producing them. The only real remedy, 
— says the declaration of this order, — is 
the overthrow of the existing monopoly 
and gambling concentrated in the present 
system of money, and the assignment of 
its just prerogatives to productive labor; 
an end must be put to all those forms of 
speculation which simply transfer money 
from hand to hand without any use or 
equivalent, and an end must be put also to 
the enormous profits exacted by tlie dis- 
tributors of goods who create no value but 
get rich out oi the earnings of productive 
Irbo.-. 



LXXX. 

TWO HUNDRED YEARS OF FREE POPULAR EDUCATION.— 

1874. 



An Experiment in Behalf of the Highest Civilization. — Condition of the Country Prerions to such Efforts. 
— Early Scenes and Custunis. — I'ulilic Law Involved and Applied. — Impulse Given to the Work. — Prog- 
ress and ]{esults. — America in the Van. — Most Enlightened and Successful System in the World. — 
Female Education. — Colleges, Universities, etc. — A Very Modern Idea. — Xo National System of Edu- 
cation. — Undertaken by the Individual States. — Effect of Wise Legislation. — State Vieingwith State. — 
School-houses in " ye olden time." — The East and the West. — Wonderful Changes in Public Opinion. — 
Some Strange Contrasts. — Architectural Splendor of the Present Day. — Ingenious Helps and Appli- 
ances. — Congressional Grants in Aid of the Cause. — Government Bureau at Washington. — Grand Aim 
and Scope. — Standard of Female Instruction Raised. — Principles and Methods. — The Higher Institu- 
tions of Learning. — Ideas and Plans at the Start. — Founding of Harvard, Yale, etc. — Then and Now. 
—Nearly 400 Colleges in the U. S.— Some 8,000,000 Common School Pupils. 



"No nation can eipeclto prosper it the educatioD of the people b9 neglected."— Gbobob Washihoto*. 



THE present year ii'^y he said to complete the period and exliibit thp r«- 
sulN of <sonie t«r> liundred years of free popular education, as established 
^ aud tustuied by the law of the land. — the fact being, in this matter, that, 
•Itougli no couiprehen'-ive system of national education, under national 
l.uv, exists in the United States at the present time, 
the whole interest being within State or local juris- 
diction, the legislative assemblies of the colonies, 
particularly those of ^Massachusetts and Connecti- 
c ut, gave eiuly attention to the subject, at least in 
lespect to its more immediate claims and necessi- 
ties. It i- a decidedly modern idea, that the State 
;tt large, and each man and woman in particular, is 
responsible for the proper education of every child. 
Those conspicuous figures in history, Alfred and 
Charlemagne, seem to have had a glimmering of 
that idea, but the times were too dark, too stern for 
them. During the whole of the middle Ages, little 
more is to be seen than priestly schools, chiefly in- 
tended for the education of the clergy, but opened in 
Schools for the nation at large, and supported by 
the nation at large, were not dreamed of. As late, even, as the seventeenth century, 
the state of the lower and middle classes, so far as education was concerned, was 
quite discouraging. There were church sciiools, town schools, private schools, scat- 




rUE bCUuOb-UuU.SE AS IT WAS. 

certain places for the laity also 



668 



TWO HUNDRED YEARS OF EDUCATION. 



tered about here and there. — a few good, 
some indifferent, most of them poor ; but 
as to any efficient machinery that should 
reach every locality, and benefit every 
class, this was reserved to advancing gen- 
erations, — and magnificent indeed has been 
the realization. 

As already intimated, the sources of 
education were opened up at an early pe- 
riod in the settlement of the country, and, 
in spite of all difficulties that presented 
themselves, the public feeling was that 
the best should be done that the times 
would permit. It may be said, however, 
that not until 1644 — just two hundred 



the laws provided for the schoolmaster 
and the school, each township of fifty fam- 
ilies being bound to maintain a teacher of 
reading and writing, while each of a hun- 
dred families was called upon to set up a 
grammar school. According to the phra- 
seology of the legislative enactment by 
Massachusetts — 

" It is therefore ordered y' every towne- 
ship in this jurisdiction after y' Lord hath 
increased y"" to y* number of 50 houshold- 
ers shall then forthwith appoint one within 
the towne to teach all such children as 
shall resort to him to write and reade, 
whose wages shall be paid either by y' 




V ALL - .^LLI ■, 1. IN lT-1. 




years ago — did this public feeling assume 
an effectively organized form, and, in a 
short time, laws were enacted which so 
shaped matters as to insure permanency 
and progress. Thus, in Massachusetts, 




FlUST HAUVAUD COLLEGE. 



parents or masters of such children, or by 
y° inhabitants in general] by way of sup- 
ply, as y° maior part of those j'' order y° 
prudentials of y' town shall appoint, pro- 
vided those y' send their children be not 



TWO HUNDRED YEARS OF EDUCATION. 



669 



oppressed by paying much more y" tliey 
can have y" taught for in other townes." 

The example thus set was generally 
imitated in the various New England set- 
tlements, Connecticut being, in fact, in 
the very van, or at least contemporaneous 
with the most alert and earnest in the 
good cause. Connecticut, too, laid the 



of late years, by the organization of teach- 
ers' associations, teachers' institutes, etc. 
Penns3'lvania made early provision for 
public schools, namely, in the latter part 
of the seventeenth century, but it was not 
until 1834 that a thorough and compre- 
hensive plan of popular education was 
put in operation by legislative ordinance. 




yoRTH-" i.Mi-KN r>'i\ i:i:sirv. 



foundations at an early period, of an am- 
ple school fund, by setting apart for that 
purpose, in 1795, the income of the sale 
of lands in Ohio which were the property 
of the state, — reaching a value, in some 
fifty years, of more than two million dol- 
lars. Rhode Island established a system 
of free schools by legislation in 1800. 
The common school system of Maine is 
identical with that of Massachusetts, the 
two states having been one until 1820. 
New Hampshire and Vermont were not 
behindhand in prescribing methods and 
providing means of general education. 
In the state of New York, a school fund, 
now amounting to millions of dollars, was 
commenced to be raised in 1805, from the 
sale of some half a million acres of state 
lands, and the present system of free edu- 
cation was founded in 1812. New Jer- 
sey's school system has greatly improved, 



Maryland was much later in the field, pro- 
posing schools long before she established 
them. The southern colonies were, for a 
considerable period, lacking in activity in 
behalf of education, but great improve- 
ments have taken place, and especially is 
this true of late years,— a result in no 
small degree attributable to the generous 
fund contributed for this purpose by Mr. 
George Peabody, and so ably administered 
by Dr. Sears. South Carolina was amongst 
the earliest to organize public schools, 
namely, in the fore part of the eighteenth 
century, but these, like the schools of 
almost all the country, were of a very 
limited design. In Kentucky and Vir- 
ginia, as also in Mississippi, advance steps 
have beeu taken, within a comparatively 
recent period, in this direction. In all 
the western states, in addition to Ohio 
already mentioned, liberal provision haa 



670 



TWO HUNDRED YEARS OF EDrCATIOK 



been made for a first class system of com- 
mon schools, with all needed auxiliaries. 

It is about equally true of the different 
sections of the country in early times, that 
the system of instruction was extremely 
scant, and the school-house accommoda- 
tions of the most impoverished character, 
Hi compared with the present day. The 



objectionable, as the standard of education 
was correspondingly moderate. At the 
west, in its earliest days, things could 
scarcely have been much worse ; indeed, 
many of those born and reared in that 
section, in its formation period, had no 
education at all, nor did they generally 
feel much concern on the subject, — and, 




KORMAL SCHOOL, KEW VOUK ; FOB THE TKAIMM; ol i l,.l L lltr.S. 



school-house of "y" olden time" is de- 
scribed as, in fact, scarcely more than a 
hut or cabin — a small, low building, barn- 
like in shape and appearance, made in 
some cases of logs, and usually of stock 
equally crude or rough, frequently without 
clapboards or even shingles, and lighted 
by perhaps two or more four-pane win- 
dows, — a narrow door of rough boards at 
one end ; within, completely unfinished ; 
some low benches without backs, and a 
chair or stool for the ' master,' constituting 
the furniture. 

It was also a general fact in respect to 
those times, that, though the teacher 
might be decidedly a gentleman of old 
school perfection in his manners, and very 
popular perhaps as a man, his scholastic 
attainments were quite inconsiderable, — a 
point then not likely to render him very 



among those who did pretend to afford 
their children a knowledge of letters, the 
difficulties to contend with were numerous, 
not the least of which was the lack of 
competent teachers. A frequent custom 
in vogue, in sparsely inhabited neighbor- 
hoods, was, for some one of the farmers 
best qualified for the task, to spend a few 
weeks or months of the most leisure sea- 
son of the year, in teaching the children 
of the vicinity, whose parents might 
choose to send them, at a small expense, 
say ten or twelve dimes a quarter, payable 
in work or provisions. In this way, some 
of them succeeded in obtaining such an 
education as was thought to answer all 
needed purposes for the masses. Girls 
learned to spell and read imperfectly, and 
the art of penmanship was a rare attain- 
ment among the native daughters of the 



TWO HUNDRED YEAKS VF EDUCATION. 



671 



west, of that day, except in tlie larger 
towns, and a few favored spots in the 
older settlements. The education of a 
boy was then considered sufficient, if he 
could spell, read, write, and had ' ciphered 
to the rule of three' ; and if, by reason of 
any superior privilege, there was added 
to these a knowledge of grammar and 
geography, he was considered exception- 
ally advanced. The following were the 
principal items in the bill of expense for 
the entire course of studies: one Child's 
book, one Spelling book, one Reader, one 
New Testament, one quire of foolscap 
paper, one Arithmetic, one slate, and the 
tuition fees of a few quarters. The pupil 
gathered hi.s pencils from the brook, and 
plucked his quills from the wing of a ra- 
ven, or a wild goose, killed by the father's 
rifle. 

Compare all this with the architectural 
splendor of our modern school-houses, that 
iire to be found dotting the hills and val- 
leys of forty commonwealths, the cost of 
these structures varying all the way from 
live thousand to one hundred thousand 
dollars, finished with almost palatial luxu- 
riousness of beauty and convenience, and 
furnished with every possible appurtenance 
and appliance which ingenuity, so prolific 
in this direction, has been able to devise. 
Among the most important features in this 
unproved system of construction and ap- 
jiaratus, may be mentioned the loftiness 
and amplitude of the apartments, and that 
full and free ventilation so necessary for 
the health and comfort of the pupils, to- 
gether with an abundance of light, so that 
there is no straining of the vision. Of 
school-house furniture and apparatus, this 
country' is distinguished for a variety and 
perfection unexcelled, even if equalled, by 
any other nation, — including, of course, 
desks, seats, and benches, promotive of 
comfort, convenience, and neatness ; col- 
ored counters, strung on horizontal wires, 
in upright frames ; black-boards, of wood 
or mineral, some having movable slides, on 
which letters and figures are arranged in 
different orders; blocks, demonstrating the 
various geometrical figures ; maps in al- 



most endless style and variety ; atlases, 
globes, gymnastic contrivances; models, 
for representative teaching; geological, 
mineralogical, and botanical collections; 
instruments for instruction in music; — 
these, with hundreds of different text- 
books in every department or specialty, 
from the primary to the classical, with the 
letter-press made artistically attractive by 
the most beautiful pictorial ornamentation, 
fill up the foreground of this wonderful 
contrast of the present with the past, and 
the details of this comparison might here 
be almost indefinitely extended, did space 
permit. 

Foreigners, even the most judicious ob- 
servers, from European nations of the 
highest advancement in matters of educa- 
tion, are stated, by Prof. Hoyt, to be of 
one opinion in regard to the intelligent 
zeal of the American people in educational 
affairs, and the readiness with which they 
voluntarily tax themselves, that the bless 
ings of intellectual culture may be free to 
all ; the great liberality of the government 
of the United States in freely giving of 
the public domain for the support of 
schools for the young, of universities, and 
of technical schools for instruction and 
training in the applications of science to 
the practical arts ; the unparalleled mu- 
nificence of private gifts and bequests for 
the founding of great schools, general, 
technical, and professional ; the superior- 
ity of our public school buildings in the 
cities and villages, and of American school 
furniture ; the great superiority of our 
text-books, especially those for use in the 
primary and grammar schools ; and, finally, 
the extraordinary extent to which our 
newspaper and periodical publications, 
lecture courses, and other like instrumen- 
talities, supplement the work of the schools 
by a general diffusion of knowledge among 
all classes of the people 

It is not saying too much, perhaps, that 
the liberal grants of public lands made in 
behalf of free education, have proved, in 
many of the states, the chief means of 
prosperity to the cause. The establish- 
ment, also, of a government Bureau of 



572 



TWO HUNDRED YEARS OF EDUCATIOK 



Education, at Washington, is likely to ef- 
iect the greatest results for good. Though 
clothed with no positive authority or con- 
trol, it aims to encourage the growth, in 
the public mind, of the following princi- 
ples or features of a national school sys- 
tem, namely' : — 

The authority and duty of the state 
legislature to establish, aid, support, and 
supervise schools of every grade, and all 
institutions and agencies of education, sci- 
ence, and the arts ; security against dimi- 
nution or diversion of educational funds 
and benefactions ; the certainty of a min- 
imum rate of taxation, sufficient every 
year to secure the elementary instruction 
of all children within the state wlio shall 



ponderance, sympathy with the wants ot 
different sections and occupations, and 
independence of local or special influence; 
a system of inspection, administered by 
the state board, intelligent, professional, 
frequent, and independent of local or in- 
stitutional control, with the widest and 
fullest publicity of results ; admission to 
all higher institutions aided by the state, 
only on fitness to enter and profit bj' the 
same, ascertained by open competitive 
examination ; a retiring fund, made up of 
an annual allowance by the state, and an 
equal payment by those who register to 
secure its benefits, conditioned on pro- 
longed service in the business of teaching; 
and an obligation on parents and guar- 




\ll:^Y IN VALK CULLEf.K V,\:"l M'S. 



apply, by teachers professionally trained, 
and in schools legally inspected and ap- 
proved ; the distribution of all state ap- 
propriations derived from taxation or funds, 
on such conditions and in such modes as 
will secure local taxation or individual 
contributions for the same purpose, a lively 
municipal or public interest in the expend- 
iture of both sums, the constant co-opera- 
tion of parents at home in realizing the 
work of the school, and the regular at- 
tendance of pupils ; a state board of edu- 
cation, having supervision of all educa- 
tional institutions incorporated or aided 
by the state, and constituted in such way 
as to secure literary, scientific, and pro- 
fessional attainment and experience, free- 
dom from denominational or party pre- 



dians not to allow children to grow tip in 
barbarism, ignorance and vagrancy, — and 
the exercise of the elective franchise, or 
of any public ofiicer, to be conditioned on 
the ability of the apiiHcant to read under- 
standingly the Constitution and laws. 

Of free public education for females, it 
may be said that the standard is now in 
every respect as high and the opportunitiea 
as complete and ample, as for the other 
sex, and that this fact relates to all the 
grades or graduated courses of instruction, 
from the primary and grammar schools up 
to the highest collegiate and university 
institutions. Normal schools, too, for the 
professional training of teachers, so as to 
leave nothing wanting in respect to capac- 
ity and adaptation for Ihis purpose, have 



TWO HUNDRED YEARS OF EDUCATION. 



673 



"teen established, under legislative auspices, 
in a large number of tbe states, and the 
principles and methods characterizing 
these important adjuncts to the cause 
cover the widest range. Besides these 
training schools, which annually send forth 
hundreds of the most accomplished gradu- 
ates, of both sexes, colleges exclusively' for 
females are to be found in different parts 
of the land, conducted on a scale and with 
a degree of success equal to the most re- 
nowned of those for males only. Collegiate 
institutions designed for the joint educa- 
tion of the two sexes constitute another 
feature of the advanced American system. 
The fact seems almost incredible, that, 
though there were but twenty-five collep;es 



times and the present — any considerable 
pictorial views of the superb buildings, 
now so numerous, which have been erected 
to meet the wants of these institutions. 

Harvard, Yale, and Columbia (or King's) 
colleges are the most ancient and cele- 
brated in America, and may be considered 
the mother, of all. From the smallest 
beginnings, their prosperity and enlarge- 
ment have continued until the present 
day. Harvard was founded in 1636, the 
intention of its originators and benefac- 
tors being the prejjaration of young men 
for the ministry and as teachers. Its de- 
partments — academic, theology, law, medi- 
cine, science, etc., — are so complete as to 
fairly represent the highest order of clas- 




VIEW IN H.\RVA;tt! (OLLF';! 



in the United States in the year 1800, the 
number had increased nearlj' fifteen times 
during the three-fourths of a century suc- 
ceeding, these being ni.anned by a profes- 
sorial corps of nearly four thousand, and 
the number of students falling but little 
short of fifty-seven thousand, — a remarka- 
ble fact, indeed, and of apjjropriate men- 
tion in connection with the statement that, 
at the same period, the number of pupils 
enrolled in the free public schools was 
some eight millions. 

The number of colleges and universities 
being thus among the hundreds, renders 
quite impossible any attempt to present — 
except in a few instances, for the purpose 
of showing the contrast between former 



sical learning on this continent. Yale 
college was founded in 1700, and its ad- 
vantages and reputation have always been 
unexcelled. The same may be said of Co- 
lumbia, Brown, Princeton, Hamilton, La- 
fayette, &c , &c. Columbia college was 
founded in 1754 ; the university of North 
Carolina dates back to 1789 ; that of South 
Carolina to 1801 ; the Ohio university to 
1804; and the university of Virginia, in 
the establishment of which Thomas Jeffer- 
son was so prominent and influential, was 
organized in 1819. 

The efforts put forth at the west, in this 
direction, during the last half century in 
especial, have been simply amazing — only 
commensurate, however, with the magnifi- 



674 



TV/0 HUNDRED YEARS OF EDUCATION. 



cent scale upon which all enterprises in 
that vast, active, and prosperous region are 
planned, and which thus so truly reflect 
the intelligence, wisdom, moral and politi- 
cal genius, and wealth, of that great peo- 
ple. Nor has the activity in this splendid 
tield of educational achievement been con- 
fined to any particulai i-ace, party, or de- 
nomination, the various Christian bodies 
of almost every name, in fact, being repre- 
sented — Baptist, Methodist, Presbyterian, 
Congregationalist, Roman Catholic, Chris- 
tian, Uiiiversalist, Unitarian, Episcopalian, 
Lu lieran, &c., &c. 

The larger number of these institutions 
are not only of comparatively recent origin, 
but have reached a surprising degree or 
condition of prosperity, and in not a few 
instances is this due to the princely endow- 
ments made by individuals. Kentucky 
University will forever be associated with 
the name of Bowman, Cornell with its 
munificent founder, and so of many others, 
not alone at the west, but in other sections 
of the country as well. In Indiana, Mich- 
igan, Missouri, Illinois, Wisconsin, Missis- 
sippi, Iowa, Ohio, Minnesota, Kansas, 
California, — in fact, throughout the whole 
vast area of country which scarcely had 
name or knowledge when the war for inde- 



pendence was being waged by the thirteen 
colonies, — are found seats of learning from 
which the four great profes.-^ions are annu- 
ally recruited, to say nothing of the inde- 
pendent fields of literature, science and 
art, in some leading specialty of which, 
independent of the standard professions, 
so many find their life's occupation and 
achievements. 

In the opinion of some of the wisest 
educators of the present day, — an opinion 
also expressed by Prof. Hoyt, in one of 
his invaluable papers on the conduct of 
universities, — the question is one of great 
itnportance, whether the cause of the 
higher culture and the interests of educa- 
tion generally would not be better pro- 
moted by raising the standards of admis- 
sion and graduation quite above the usual 
low level ; thus putting all truly prepara- 
tory work upon the high schools, acade- 
mies, and colleges, where it properly 
belongs, and employing the whole instruc- 
tional force of the university in meeting 
the demand for instruction in the higher 
departments of learning. There would 
seem to be no doubt, that, in a very large 
sense, this question lies at the foundation 
of the future of American university edu- 
cation — its character — its results. 



LXXXL 

CONSECRATION OF THE FIRST CARDINAL IN THE 
UNITED STATES.— 1875. 



The Venerable Archbishop McCIosky, of New York, Selected by the Roman Pontiff, for this Great 
Office.— He becomes a Prince in tlie Church.— The Highest Ecclesiastical Appointment in the Catholic 
Hierarchy.— Reasons given for this Step.— Solemn Investiture, in the Cathedral, by Clerical Dignitaries 
from All Parts of the Country.— An Unparalleled Scene.- Illustrious Nature of this Office.— Special 
Envoy sent from Rome.— Announcing the Event to the Archbishop.— Time of Public Recognition 
Assigned.— A Mighty Stream of llumauity.— Decorations of the Church.- Procession of Priests.— 
Incensing the Altars.— Sacred Vessels and Vestments.— Insignia Peculiar to this Rank.— The Scarlet 
Cap.— Profoundly Impressive Service.- Unprecedented on this Continent.— Imposing the Berretta.— 
Intoning and Chanting.— Official Letter from the Pope.— Use of the Latin Language.— Inspiring Strains 
of Music— Incidents Attending the Ceremonial.— Pontifical Benediction by the Cardinal.- Retirement 
of the Celebrants. — Dispersion of the Vast Throng. 



" rt ir«a the intent and purpose of the holy father to give honor to our whole eountry! louire honor end adow hi> deep reaped Md eileer, 
forour|rie«t.od ixlorious repubho. of which the Catholic population form ao essential a patt, and who arcao loyally deroled to her il,.tilu- 
Uona."— Cabdihal McCluskby's Addbess. 



1 




rilE GBiilAl CAiUIiUIi.iL, S. Y. 



T may not be inappropriate, perhaps, to state, first, that a 
cardinal is an ecclesiastical prince in the Roman Catholic 
church, — an official of the most illustrious characer, there- 
fore, in that hierarchy, — second, in fact, only to the pope 
himself, in point of rank, — and, among his very highest pre- 
rogatives, is that of having a voice and vote in the conclave 
of cardinals at the election of a pope, who is taken from 
their number. The limit is seventy, and these also consti- 
tute the sacred college, and compose the pope's 
council. The distinguishing dress of a cardi- 
nal is a red sontaine or cassock, a rochet, a 
short purple mantle, and a red hat. 

As usual, in such a case, a special envoy was 
sent from Rome, to bear to the eminent ap- 
]iointee the papal briefs. Count Marefoschi, 
of the pope's household, was deputed for this 
purpose, and by him the official announcement 
was duly made to the venerable prelate, and 
various insignia of his new rank presented to 
him. One special article of dress, however, 
pertaining to the cardinalate, — namely, the 
cappello — has to be received directly from the 



676 



CONSECRATION OF THE FIRST CARDINAL. 



hands of the pope himself ; the article thus 
named is the flat-topped, wide-brimmed hat, 
from which depend two large tassels, and 
which is worn on the most exalted occa- 
sions. 

In handing to the cardinal the papal 
letter and the special insignia — a scarlet 
skull cap, — the envoy stated that the ob- 
jects had in view by the holy father in this 
step, were, first, to recognize and reward 



in from all quarters to witness the solemn 
and impressive pageant — the first of its 
kind since the settlement of our country. 
At the gate of entrance, the scene was 
one long to be remembered by the vast 
multitude — old men and women, young 
men and maidens — who there sought, with 
almost mortal struggle, admission to the 
portals of the sacred edifice. 

In the decorations of the cathedral, the 




ARCHBISHOP MCCLOSKEV, THE FIRST AMEKR'AN CAHDINAL. 



the personal merits and distinguished ser- 
vices to the Church of the archbishop 
himself ; second, to testify his regard for 
and pay a just tribute to the piet3' and 
zeal of the Catholics of America; and 
third, to acknowledge, in an especial man- 
ner, bis appreciation of all that the Cath- 
olics of the diocese of New York had 
accomplished for religion. 

The 27th of April was the time assigned 
for the public ceremonial of consecration, 
and a mighty stream of humanity poured 



choicest taste was exercised. The sanctu- 
ary was festooned with scarlet cloth orna- 
mented with gold lace and fringe, while 
over the cross, at the top of the altar, was 
arranged, in gas jets, 'Te Deum Lauda- 
mus,' and the floral decorations on the 
altar itself were profuse and elegant in 
the extreme. On either side of the tab- 
ernacle were floral columns of choice ex- 
otics, fully three feet in length and a foot 
in diameter, composed of roses, camellias 
and calla lilies, surmounted by a red cross 



COXSECEATIOX OF THE FIRST CAEDINAL. 



677 



of caruation pinks, while other floral de- 
signs of every description were strewn 
about in graceful profusion. The gallery, 
which had been set apart for the sole use 
of the choir, was hung with crimson cloth 
fringed with gilt, and caught up with 
heavy gold tassels ; in the centre was 
looped the papal banner, while on either 
side hung the stars and stripes. 

At the appointed hour, the pope's legate, 
supported by his secretary and the master 
of ceremonies, came from the sacrist}', 
bearing the berretta and the papal briefs, 
and deposited the treasures at the left of 
the cardinal's throne, the berretta, in this 
case, being of the color peculiar to the 
cardinalship. In a few moments came the 
procession of priests, in their priestly cas- 
socks and short surplices, and, shortly 
after, the dignitaries came forth from the 
same sacristy door ; first came a company 
of acolytes ; then the archbishops and 
bishops, mitred and arrayed in all the 
insignia of their order ; then the pope's 
legate ; and next His Eminence the car- 
dinal, his train borne by two boys. Be- 
hind the cardinal came Count Marefoschi, 
in the uniform of the papal guard ; then 
another procession of priests, closed by 
the Dominican monks in white, and the 
Franciscans in brown robes. The bodies 
composing the procession being duly ar- 
ranged, the church was now filled with 
joyous music from the choir. 

Cardinal McCloskey was, of course, the 
noteworthy figure in this dazzling assem- 
bly. He wore a light purple or mauve cas- 
sock, a white surplice, and a velvet manta- 
lettaof deep purple ; about his neck was a 
gold chain, from which was suspended a 
ponderous cross, blazing with magnificent 
gems ; on his head was a black berretta — 
a small cap with three crests which run 
from the central point on top to the other 
edge, — which, upon removal, showed be- 
neath it the small scarlet skull cap, the 
well known sacerdotal insignia. His tall 
spare person, towering over the larger 
number near liim, and his finely intellect- 
ual and energetic face, gave decided char- 
acter to the scene. All the bishops, with 



their gorgeous mitres and copes of gold 
and silver and sheeny satin, embroidered 
in various colors ; the cardinal tranquilly 
seated on his throne ; the gigantic guard, 
in the person of Count Marefoschi, mag- 
nificently attired, at his left ; Archbishop 
Bayley, on the throne beyond the blazing 
altar, whose wealth of flowers and their 
tender hues became well nigh lost in the 
dazzle and blaze of the firmament of can- 
dles ; the sober 3'et superb decorations of 
the whole altar and sanctuary, and the 
storm of music that swept over all ; — it 
was a spectacle never to be forgotten. 

Cardinal McCloskey, wearing his rochet, 
purpio cassock, etc , knelt at the epistle 
altar; the archbishop of Baltimore sat on 
the same side; the officiating prelate and 
clergymen stood at the altar steps ; and 
mass was commenced. At the confiteor, 
the cardinal stood up. and proceeded to 
his throne at the gospel side, he alone of 
all the prelates present having a pastoral 
staff, which was carried by an officiating 
bishop. After incensing the altar three 
times, he sat down with the deacon and sub- 
deacon. Bishop Loughlin read ' Introit,' 
recited 'Kyrie,' and intoned 'Gloria in 
Excelsis,' which was afterwards SMng by the 
choir. Collects were read by the celebrant, 
the ' Epistle ' by the sub-deacon, and, while 
Bishop Loughlin read the 'Gospel,' the 
congregation rose to their feet ; he then 
chanted ' Credo in Unum Deum,' and in a 
low voice recited the remainder of the 
Nicene Creed. 

At this point, after the choir had fin- 
ished. Bishop Loughlin repaired to the 
altar, where, after the customary 'Domi- 
nus vobiscum ' and ' Oreraus,' he proceeded 
to read prayers at the offertory. The dea- 
con and sub-deacon then prepared sacred 
vessels and bread and wine. Mercan- 
dante's 'Quam dilecta' was sung during 
this period. Acolytes then advanced wilh 
censers and the altar was incensed by the 
celebrant, the archbishop and bishop ris- 
ing and removing their mitres, the priests 
and entire congregation also rising. At 
this time, the church was a level sea of 
heads, and, when the bells tinkled to an- 



378 



COXSECEATION OF THE FIEST CARDINAL. 



nounce the opening of canon or solemn 
part of tl)e ceremony, the people were un- 
able to kneel, so tightly were they packed 
together. Toward the end of the mass, 
was observed the interesting ceremony of 
giving the ' pax,' or kiss of peace, — not 



left hand side of the altar, and the arch- 
bishop of Baltimore stepped down from 
his throne and knelt at the epistje side. 
Ablegate Roncetti stood beside Archbishop 
Bayley, and in a loud clear voice read the 
message, in Latin, from the Pope to his 




'NSECKATION OF THE FIKST AMFKI' AN i AKI'INAL. 



exactly a kiss, but an inclination of heads 
together, while the hands rest on others' 
arms. 'Pax' was given from one to the 
other until it passed along to right and 
left, all through the crowded sanctuary. 

When mass was finished, the most nota- 
ble scene of the great occasion commenced. 
Cardinal McCloskey rose and knelt at the 



venerabilis frater, giving the reasons wliich 
induced him to confer the cardinalate upon 
Archbishop McCloskey, and at its close 
handed him the parchment ' brief,' author- 
izing him to confer the berretta, in the 
name of His Holiness, on this newly ap- 
pointed prince of the Church. The arch- 
bishop Laving replied, in the Latin Ian- 



CONSECRATION OF THE FIRST CARDINAL. 



6rs 



giiage, delivered the brief to ,a deacon of 
the mass, and, after reatKiig it, Count 
Marefoschi surrendered tlie borretta to 
Mgr Roucetti, who, liaiuling it to Arch- 
bisliop Bayle_y, the latter walked over to 
Cardinal McCloskey and placed the cap 
on his head, at the same time addressintr 

o 

him as 'Eminentia tua ' Cardinal Mc- 
Closkey made a suitable reply, in the 
Latin vernacular, and, after intoning 'Te 
Deum,' retired to the vestry, where he put 
on the crimson robes of liis ofiSce, and re- 
turned to the altar, while the choir sang 
' Te Deum.' 

The interest, both ecclesiastical and 
historical, pertaining to the papal docu- 
ments referred to, entitle them to an in- 
sertion in this place. The first of these, 
couched in the usual phraseology of com- 
munications of such grave importance, is 
addressed — 

' To our Venerable Brother, James Roose- 
velt Bayley, Archbishop of Baltimore. 
I'lus IX., Pope. Venerable Brother, 
Health and Apostullc Benediction : 
After the example of the Roman Pontiffs, 
our predecessors, it has ever been our care to 
fill the College of Cardinals, which is the Sen- 
ate of the Church, with men whose piety, 
virtue, and merits, should correspond to the 
splendor of so great a dignity. ]t is this that 
has moved us to proclaim Cardinal of tlie 
Holy Roman Church, our Venerable Brother, 
John McCloskey, Archbishop of New York; 
whose piety, learning, devotion to His Holy 
Apostolic See, and whose indefatigable zeal 
in the cultivation of the Lord's Vineyard, 
have been so conspicuously evident to Us that 
we have thought him worthy of this great 
honor. And now that we would choose a per- 
sonage for tlie office of conferring upon him 
the berrettii, one of the insignia of his new 
dignity, we have thought well to select for the 
office you, venerable brother, who presides over 
so illustrious a church, and one that has the 
right of precedence over all the churches of 
the United States of America. We know that 
such is your devotion toward us and toward 
ibis chair of the blessed Peter, tliat we are 
confident you will, in the discharge of this 
office, fulfill all our expectations. We, there- 
fore, by these presents, charge you, venerable 
brother, that, strictly observing whatever is 
prescribed by the sacred rites of the Romiwi 



Church, you confer, in our name and in his 
own Cathedral church, upon our beloved son, 
John McCloskey, proclaimed by us a Cardi- 
nal of the Holy Konum Church, the scailet 
berretta, which we have sent to him by the 
hand of our beloved son, C^sau Roncetti, 
one of our private chamberlains ; and we, 
thei-efore, through these jiresents, by the same 
apostolic authority, grant you all the poweis 
necessary and pi-oper for the purpose. And it 
is our wish that nothing contained in any 
other ordinance shall be construed thwarting 
our purpose, even though such thing might 
seem to require special and individual men- 
tion. 

Given in Rome, at St. Peter's, under the 
seal of the Fisherman's Ring, on the 16th day 
of March, anno Domini 1875, and of our Pon- 
tificate the twenty-ninth. 

[l. s.] F. Cardinal Asquini.' 

The above letter was followed by one 
which announced to the distinguisheil pre- 
late, personally, that His H oliness haa been 
pleased to make him one of the princes 
of the Church, and was addressed — 

' To our Beloved Son, John McCloskey — by 
the Appointment and Favor of the Apos- 
tolic of our Arclibishop of New York, and 
now proclaimed a Cardinal of the Holy 
Roman Church. Pius IX., Pope. Beloved 
Son, Health and Apostolic Benediction: 
Having been placed, through the Divine 
will, without any merit of ours, in the supreme 
dignity of this Apostolic See, with that solici- 
tude which should be characteristic of our 
pastoral office, while laboring for the welfare 
of the Catholic Church, we have ever sought 
to enroll among the number of our venerable 
brethren the Cardinals of the Holy Roman 
Church, men of such conspicuous merit as the 
dignity of their illustrious order demands. 
For this reason it is that we have chosen you, 
our well-beloved son, whoe eminent piety, 
virtue and learning, and zeal for the propaga- 
tion of the Catholic faith, have convinced us 
that your ministry would be of great utility 
and honor to the Church of God. Having, 
therefore, created you a Cardinal of the Holy 
Roman Church, we send to you, by our be- 
loved son, C.ESAn I'.oxoetti, one of our secret 
chamberlains, the scarlet berretta, which is 
one of the iusigtiia of that sublime dignity. 
When, with the proper forms, it shall have 
been conferred upon you, know that its shin- 
ing crimson should ever remind him who is 



6S0 



CONSECKATIOi^ OF THE FIRST CAEDlJfAL. 



elevated to the Cardinalitial dignity, that, 
fearless and unconquered, he must ever up- 
hold the rights of the Church of God through 
every danger, even to that sliedding of his 
blood wliich is pronounced precious in the 
siglit of the Lord. We also greatly desire that 
you would receive, with all manner of kind- 
ness, him who we have sent to you, Loth for 
the sake of the mission upon which he is sent 
and for our sake. It is also our wish, that, 
before you receive the berretta, you should 
take and subscribe with your own hand, the oath 
which will be presented to you by the afore- 
mentioned, our beloved son, Cesar Roncetti, 
and send it to us, either by his hand, or any 
other. And it is our wish that no persons, 
constitutions or ordinances, of this Apostolic 
See, or anything else whatsoever, shall be con- 
strued as invalidating this our present act. 

Given in Rome, at St. Peter's, under the 
seal of the Fisherman's Ring, on the 26th day 
of March, anno Domini 1875, and of our Pon- 
tificate the twenty-ninth. 

[l. s.] F. Cardinal Asquisi. 

The closing act in this solemn pageant, 
after the inspiring strains of music had 
ceased to fill the air, was the pontifical bene- 
diction by the Cardinal, and, after the re- 
tirement of the celebrants in processional 
order, the vast throng of spectators dis- 
persed. The new Cardinal entered upon his 
great office with the reputation, accorded to 
him alike b3' Protestants and Catholics, of 
a name without a stain, and a career honor- 
able and dignified, through a long life. 

It is certainly not saying too much, that, 
in the annals of American Catholicism, so 
memorable a ceremonial as that now des- 
cribed must render historical, in the high- 
est degree, the sacred edifice in which it 
occurred. But only a few years elapsed, 
after this unprecedented occasion, when the 
venerable Cardinal had the satisfaction of 
officiating at the dedication of the new and 
magnificent St. Patrick's Cathedral just 
completed on Fifth Avenue, — the most 
superb ecclesiastical structure not only in 
Kew York citj', but on the American conti- 
nent. The dedication took place May 25, 
1879, or nearly twenty-one years after the 
laying of the corner-stone. The founda- 
tions rest on a bed of solid rock, in which 
excavations therefor had to be made, and 



at the normal level of the surrounding 
ground rests a chisel-dressed base course of 
granite. From this springs a pure Gothic 
marble superstructure, similar in archi- 
tecture to the style obtaining in Europe 
during the thirteenth and fourteenth cen- 
turies, and, like the cathedrals of Amiens, 
Eheims, and Cologne, this is free from 
heaviness and over-ornamentation. Most 
of the windows on the lower tier were do- 
nations from various churches, and some 
are of American make ; those of the nave 
were ordered by Cardinal McCloskey, when 
visiting Rome. These windows are de- 
clared by good judges to be masterpieces 
of art. The interior of the edifice is di- 
vided into three parts — transept, nave, and 
choir, — of dimensions as follows : Length 
of transept, 140 feet ; height of nave, 108 
feet; internal length of the building 306 
feet, and breadth 96 feet. A series of 
chapels, each twelve feet deep, occupy 
either side of the edifice; the nave is di- 
vided from the aisles by two rows of clus- 
tered columns, sixteen columns in a row ; 
the choir has five baj-s, and arranged with 
double aisles on either side of the central 
aisle. The area of the interior of the ca- 
thedral is 38,500 square feet ; there is 
standing room for 19,000 people, and 
14,000 can be accommodated with seats. 
The cost of the cathedra], when completed, 
will approximate $5,000,000. The first 
event in connection with the dedication of 
the edifice was the solemn consecration, 
two days previously, of the High Altar, 
the chief consecrator being the Eight Eev. 
Bishop Conroy, of Albany, N. Y. This 
grand altar, exquisite in material, design, 
and artistic beauty, stands forty-eight feet 
in height to the apex of the cross sur- 
mounting the tabernacle. The number of 
eminent prelates present was quite large 
comjjrising not less than six archbishops, 
in cope and mitre, followed by the bishops, 
similarly attired, and making in all a gath- 
ering of forty-three members of the Epis- 
copacy. The scene of the dedication, un- 
der the lead, primarily, of the eminent and 
venerable Cardinal, was impressive to a 
degree rarely witnessed on American soil. 



LXXXIL 

" MIRACLES OF SCIENCE," OR FOUR NEW WONDERS OF 

THE WORLD.— 1876. 



The Electric Light, or Brilliant and Abundant Illumination by Means of Electricity.-The Telephone, 
or Instantaneous Articulate Communication between Distant Points—The Phonograph, ortalkmg Ma. 
chine Reproducing and Preserving Human Utterances, whether of Speech or Song, in all their charac- 
teristics -The Microphone, or Prodigious Magnifier of Sound, however Slight or Remote.-Splendor 
of the Electric Kays.-Former Inventions in this Line.-Prof. Farmer's Early Success.-Ed.sons Im- 
proved Device.-Its Special Cliaracteristics.-Sanguine Expectations Entertamed.-Interest Excited by 
the Telephone.-EnconiumsfromEngUsh Sources-Principles of Construction and Use-Simphc.ty 
and ServLableness-Tens of Thousands in Operation-How the Phonograph was Developed-Other 
Inventions Fairlv Eclipsed-Its Appearance, Form, Outcome-Words and Tones Recorded-Aston- 
Uhment and Delight. Its Five Chief Features-Marvels of the Microphone-A Touch or T.ck Audible 
for MUes.-Arrangement of the Apparatus.-Curious Feats Accomplished-Explanation of this 
property. 



"The realm of scUnliflc in»e«figatlon U actively occupied at present by our 



American coaeioa, and "itb reialU aimply artonndini." 

— LOKOON TlUES. 



r 



HE "miracles of science," or the « four new wonders of the world is the 
familiar phraseology with which those remarkable achievements in the world 
of discovery and invention-</i6 Electric Light, the Telephone, 
the Phonograph, and the Microphone,-^r^ referred to, and the 
American citizen may well speak with pride of those accomplish- 
ments, from the fact that they are, either exclusively or m the 
most promising sense, the offspring of his own native land, ihe 
first of these, the electric light, which has recently attracted such 
attention as never before was bestowed upon it, has been aptly 
pronounced the brightest meteor that has flashed across the hori- 
^ zon of promise during the present century,-and, indeed, the 
'^ splendor of the rays emitted, and the representations of the small 
;V cost required to produce such an intense illumination, have led 
many to believe that gas-lighting was drawing to a close and 
that night would be turned into day by this wonderful agent. 

The evident priority of American genius in this line it is safe 
to assert- though not alone in this country, but in Europe as 
well electricity has been successfully employed in lighting assem- 
bly halls, factories, depots, streets, parks, lighthouses, etc.,-and 
its adaptation for marine purposes, as exhibited in the accompany- 
ing illustration, is looked upon as likely to mitigate the penis of 
night and of fogs, and increase the facUities of ocean enterprise. 




ELECTRIC L.VILP 



682 



MIRACLES OF SCIENCE. 



The inventions claiming to realize the 
best results in this dircotion are very 
numerous, and constantly accumulating. 
Acknowledging, as do all men of science, 
the practicability of the thing when np- 
jilied on a large scale, and especially out 
of doors, the desideratum of chief impor- 
tance has seemed to be its application to 
in-door service. That this was accom- 
plished by Prof. Farmer, at his home in 
Salem, Mass., in 1859, is abundantly dem- 
onstrated. To realize this object conven- 
iently, agreeably, abundantly and inex- 
(lensively, many contrivances have been 
brought forward, foremost among which 
may be said to be those due to the won- 
der-working brain of Mr. Edison. 

This invention, as summarily described 
by Mr Edison himself, consists, first, in 
the combination with an electric light of 
a thermal circuit regulator to les>en the 
electric action in the light when the max- 
imum intensity has been attained ; the 
combination with the electric light of a 
circuit closing lever operated by heat 
from the electric current or from the 
light, and a shunt or short circuit to di- 
vert the current or a portion thereof from 
the light; the combination with the elec- 
tric* light and a resistance of a circuit 
closer operated by heat, and serving to 
place more or less resistance in the circuit 
of the light; the combination with an 
electric light of a diajihragm operated by 
the expansion of a gas or fluid in propor- 
tion to the temperature of the light, to 
regulate the electric current; the combi- 
nation with a vibrating bod\', similar to a 
tuning fork, of mechanism for maintain- 
ing the vibration and magnets, cores, and 
helices, by means of which a secondary 
current is set up, so as to convert me- 
chanical motion into electric force, or the 
reverse ; and, finally, the combination 
with the electric lights of means for regu- 
lating the electric current to the same, in 
proportion to the heat evolved in the light, 
so as to prevent injury to the apparatus. 
His improved alloy of the refractory met- 
als, and the thermo-static regulator, are 
the means, in this case, of securing a liglit 



which is alleged to be the most steady, 
clear, inexpensive, and reliable, of any 
electric light j-et proposed. In other 
words, the plan consists in placing an 
electric light in branch circuits passing 
across from the positive to the negative 
conductor, and the lights are controlled 
by switches which connect the branches 
with or disconnect them from the main 
conductors. The lamp consists of a suita- 
ble standard, surmounting which is a trans- 
parent glass case, resembling an ordinary 
lamp chimney, except that it is closed at 
the top ; within this is suspended a spiral 
of metal wire, hardly larger than a knit- 
ting needle in diameter, and about three- 
quarters of an inch in length. When the 
electricity is turned on, this spiral glows 
with a white light, of great brillianc}' and 
steadiness. Should the sanguine expec- 
tations of the inventor of this device be 
realized, a revolution in artificial illumi- 
nation, especially in-doors, will indeed 
take place, involving, practicallj', the dis- 
use of every other method and material. 

Already, in this countrj' and in Europe, 
the various arrangements for electric illu- 
mination which have seemed the most prac- 
ticable have been put into operation, with 
various degrees of success, and, in the case 
of large inclosures or areas, there appears 
to be no doubt as to its superiority. For 
light-houses, it has some valuable points 
of adaptation, and for various purposes at 
sea its emploj-ment must be found ex- 
tremely serviceable. The results of its 
introduction in the light-house at South 
Foreland prove its usefulness in this rela- 
tion. The electric current for this light 
is generated by means of large magneto- 
electric machines, which are driven by 
belting connected with a steam-engine, 
each machine being composed of ninety- 
six helices, mounted upon six gun-metal 
wheels, each carrying sixteen helices ; be- 
tween these wheels are placed the mag- 
nets, eight in each divi-sion, fort}' of which 
are composed of six layers or leaves riv- 
eted together, while the sixteen end ones 
have but three leaves each. The magnets, 
which are mounted in frames, are station- 



MIRACLES OF SCIENCE. 



683 



ary. while tlio lieliVps revolve at the rate 
of four liundreil revolutions per iiiiiiutc. 
The jiower absorbed by the electric ma- 
chine alone, including friction, is four 
indicated horse-power. The power of a 
magneto-electric machine is according to 
the gross attractive power of its magnets, 
each magnet having a certain lifting or 
attractive power expressed in pound-;. In 
the machines at South Eoreland, each of 
the six-piate magnets lift one hundred 
and eight pounds, and each of the three- 
plate magnets fifty-four pounds, making 
the attractive power of the magnets, in 
one machine, 6,184 pounds. Each of tlio 
six-plate magnets weighs fortj'-three and 



by this apparatus, taken 'with a dynamo- 
meter, shows 13-jY;y horse-power, the num- 
ber of lights being sixteen to seventeen 
to a machine, each light being of two 
thousand candle power. 

The details of the scientific principles 
and of the mechanical intricacies involved 
in these various remarkable inventions 
would cover many pages. It may be stated, 
therefore, generally, tlmt the rarbon jioints 




one-half pounds. The machines arc 
connected by underground cables with 
the electric lamps placed in the lenses 
of the tower. 

Tiie success which has attended the 
use of such machines or devices as the 
Lontin, Gramme-Jablochkoff, Eapieff, 
Werdermann, DeMeritens, Siemens. 
Wallace Farmer, Sawyer-Mann, Brush, 
Fuller, and some others, shows that, 
whatever may come of the efforts to 
secure the convenient and economical 
use of electric illumination in dwellings, 
there can scarcely be a doubt, as has al- 
ready been remarked, of the substitution 
of this system for all others, at no distant 
day, outdoors and in halls and other pub- 
lic buildings of considerable size. Quite 
a large number of one of the devices just 
mentioned have for some time past been 
in operation in some of the largest busi- 
ness and industrial establishments in the 
United States ; the tests of power absorbed 



KLECXKIC LlGUr AT M:A. 



of a powerful machine for electric illumi- 
nation are equal to the sun in lustre — it is 
thought possible, indeed, that even this 
limit may be overpassed, as the sun doeo 
not occupy the first position in the uni- 
verse. In quantity and quality, too, the 
electric light greatly exceeds all flames ; 
it is, in fact, precisely this immense pro- 
fusion of illuminating power that has 
proved objectionalile. Nothing is easier, 
Iiowever, than to reduce the lustre of the 



684 



MIRACLES OF SCIENCE. 



light to any degree that may be desired — 
that is, by covering the arc with a large 
opalescent globe, which, while hiding the 
light, receives all the rays, and disperses 
them in the same way as if the globe itself 
were luminous. To be suitable for pur- 
poses of illumination, a light should con- 
tain, according to chemical authority, the 
seven primitive colors of the spectrum in 
certain proportions ; the flames of oil and 
gas do not contain the true proportions of 
these, which is the cause of their inferi- 
ority. The electric light is white — abso- 
lutely the same as that of the sun — and 
contains all the simple rays in the same 
proportions. The subdivision of the light. 




as it is termed, to accomplish which in- 
ventors have put forth the most ingenious 
endeavors, is one of the claimed peculiar- 
ities of Edison's device, a single machine 
being thus utilized for the production of 
several smaller illuminators, instead of for 
one large volume of light. 

We come now to the Telephone, the 
patent for which wonderful device was 
taken out at Washington, in March, 1876, 
by Prof. A. G. Bell, affording fresh evi- 
dence of the versatility of American in- 
ventive genius. Though habitually sensi- 
tive to the honor and claims, in this direc- 
tion, of its own countrymen, the London 
Westminster Review frankly admits that, 
of all modern inventions connected with 
the transmission of telegraphic signals, 
the telephone lias deservedly excited the 
most widespread interest and astonish- 



ment, — an instrument which undertakes 
not only to convey intelligible signals, to 
great distances without the use of a bat- 
tery, but to transmit in fac-simile the 
tones of the human voice, so that the lat- 
ter shall as certainly be recognized when 
heard over a distance of hundreds of 
miles, as if the owner were speaking to a 
friend at his side in the same room. The 
telephone — as the tens of thousands now 
in use show — does all this. 

This marvelous little apparatus pro- 
duces, as already remarked, cheap and in- 
stantaneous articulate communication, that 
is, by direct sound, — neither batter}^, nor 
moving machinery, nor skill being re- 
quired, but merely the voice of ordinarv 
conversation, and attentive listening. It 
conveys the quality of the voice, so that 
the tone of the person speaking can be 
recognized at the other end of the line ; 
it enables the manufacturer to talk with 
his factory superintendent, and the physi- 
cian with his patients; establishes instan- 
taneous intercourse between the main and 
the branch ofBce, the home and the store, 
the country residence and the stable or any 
part of the grounds, the mouth of the mine 
and its remotest workings, — in fact, be- 
tween any two points miles apart. 

In its mechanism, tlie telephone consists 
of a steel cylindrical magnet, about five 
inches long and three eighths of an inch in 
diameter, encircled at one extremity by a 
short bobbin of wood or ebonite, on which 
is wound a quantity of very fine insulated 
copper 'wire. The magnet and coil are 
contained in a wooden cj-lindrical case. 
The two ends of the coil are soldered to 
thicker pieces of copper wire, which trav- 
erse the wooden envelope from one end to 
the other, and terminate in the binding 
screws at its extremity. Immediately in 
front of the magnet is a thin circular iron 
plate; which is kept in its place by being 
jammed between the main portion of the 
wooden case, and a wooden cap carrying 
the mouth or ear trumpet. These two 
parts are screwed together. The latter is 
cut away at the centre so as to expose a 
portion of the iron plate, about half an 



MIRACLES OF SCIENCE 



685 



inch in diameter. In the experiments 
made to determine tlie influence of the 
various parts of the telephone on the re- 
sults produced, and their relations to each 
other in obiaining the best effects, iron 
plates were employed of various areas and 
thicknesses, from boiler plate of three- 
eighths' inch to the thinnest plate procur- 
able. Wonderful to relate, it appeared 
that scarcelj' any plate was too thin or too 
thick for the purpose, though that of the 
ferrotype plate used by photographers 
seemed preferable, thin tin plate also an- 
swering very well. To accomplish the 
purpose sought, the iron plate was cut 
into the form of a disk, about two inches 
in diameter, and placed as near as possible 
to the extremity of the steel magnet with- 
out actually touching it, — the effect of 
this position being that, while the induced 
magnetism of the plate amounted to con- 
siderable, it was susceptible to very rapid 
changes owing to the freedom with which 
the plate could vibrate. Good results are 
obtainable by means of a magnet only an 
inch and a half long, and a working instru- 
ment need not be too large for the waist- 
coat pocket. There is no difference be- 
tween the transmitting and the receiving 
telephone, each instrument serving both 
purposes. As already remarked, no skill 
or training is required for the effective 
use of the instrument, — the operator has 
merely to press the apparatus to his ear to 
hear distinctly every sound transmitted 
from the distant end. For this, it is true, 
an effort of attention is required, and some 
persons use the instrument at the first 
trial with more success than others. In- 
dividuals differ in the facility with which 
they are able to concentrate their attention 
on one ear, so as to be practically insensible 
to what goes on around them ; but this 
habit of attention is readily acquired, and, 
when once acquired, the telephone may be 
used by any one who has ears to hear and 
a tongue to speak. In sending a message, 
the instrument is held about an inch in 
front of the mouth, and the sender merely 
talks into the mouthpiece in his ordinary 
natural manner. The words are repeated 



by the instrument at the other end of the 
circuit with the same pitch, the same 
cadences, and the same relative loudness ; 
one voice is readily distinguished from 
another, the character of the speaker's 
voice being faithfully preserved and repro- 
duced. Other instruments of this nature, 
or improvements upon it, brought forward 
by Graj-, Dolbear, Edison, Phelps, and 
others, cover substantially the same gen- 
eral principles of construction and method. 
Following closely in point of time, and, 
if possible, really eclipsing in wonderful- 
ness the invention just named, is Edison's 
Phonograph, discovered purelj' by acci- 




rHii.NOGiiArii. 



dent, — a simple apparatus, consisting, in 
its original mechanism, of a simple cylin- 
der of hollow brass mounted upon a shaft, 
at one end of which is a crank for turning 
it, and at the other a balance-wheel, the 
whole being supported by two iron up- 
rights. 

In front of the cjdinder is a movable bar 
or arm, which supports a mouthpiece of 
gutta-percha, on the side of which is a 
disk of thin metal, such as is used for tak- 
ing ' tin-type ' pictures. Against the cen- 
tre of the lower side of this disk, a fine 
steel point is held by a spring attached to 
the rim of the mouthpiece; an india-rubber 
cushion between the point and the disk 
controls the vibration of the spring. The 
cylinder is covered with a fine spiral groove 
running continuously from end to end. 

In using the Phonograph, the first opera- 
tion is to wrap a sheet of tin-foil close 
around the cylinder; the mouthpiece is 
then adjusted against the left-hand end of 
the cylinder so closely that the vibration 
of the voice on the disk will cause the 
point to press the tin-foil into the groove, 
making minute indentations resembling, 
on a very small scale, the characters of 
the Morse telegraph. The cylinder is 
moved from right to left by the screw 



G86 



MIRACLES OF SCIENCE. 



crank, so nicely adjusted that the steel 
point is always against the centre of the 
spiral groove. While turning the crank, 
the operator talks into the mouthpiece in 
a voice slightly elevated above the ordi- 
nary tone of conversation. Every vibra- 
tion of his voice is faithfully recorded on 
tlie tin-foil by the steel point, the cylinder 
inakint; about one revolution to a word. 
In order to reproduce the words — that is, 
to make the machine talk, — the cylinder 
is turned back, so that the steel point may 
go over the indentations made by speak- 
ing into the mouthpiece. A funnel, like a 
speaking trumpet, is attached to the mouth- 
piece, to keep the sounds from scatter- 
ing. Now, turning the crank again, every 
word spoken into the mouthpiece is ex- 
actly reproduced, with the utmost distinct- 
ness, to the astonishment and delight of the 
hearer. Thus the disk is either a tympa- 
num or a diaphragm, as the case may be, 
the first when it listens, the second when 
it talks. Of course, the original device 
would, true to the characteristic of Ameri- 
can inventive genius, be carried forward 
from step to step, in its mechanism and 
capabilities. It soon became a beautiful 
construction, nothing being lost sight of 
in the way of devices for quick adjustment 
and in respect to other details. Among 
the improvements which soon followed was 
that of a mica diaphragm in place of the 
original disk of metal, this having been 
found to obviate the objectionable metallic 
tone of the sound noticeable in the original 
machine. 

Among the facts or results which the 
inventor claims to be realized by this won- 
derful apparatus, are — the captivity of all 
manner of sound-waves heretofore designa- 
ted as ' fugitive,' and their permanent re- 
tention ; their reproduction with all their 
original characteristics at will, without the 
presence or consent of the original source, 
and after the lapse of anj' period of time ; 
the transmission of such captive sounds 
through the ordinary channels of commer- 
cial intercourse and trade in material form, 
for purposes of communication or as mer- 
chantable goods; the indefinite multiplica- 



tion and preservation of such sounds, with- 
o'lt regard to the existence or non-esistence 
of tlie original source; the captivation of 
sounds, with or without the knowledge 
or consent of the source of their origin. 
These five features may well be said to 
constitute a mechanical marvel hitherto 
undreamed of. Indeed, the instrument 
was in no sense the child of design or 
even forethought. In experimenting with 
the telephone, Edison happened to notice 
the manner in which the disks of that con- 
trivance vibrated in accordance with the 
breath used in speaking. Believing these 
vibrations could be recorded so as to be 
reproduced, he set to work to manufacture 
a machine for the purpose, the result being 
the phonograph, — an aj)paratus that will 
faithfully record and repeat every syllable 
uttered, with all the peculiarities of vocal- 
ization or articulation, that will sing, 
whistle, sneeze, cough, sigh, echo, &c., &c. 
With the improvements upon the Phono- 
graph already in progress, — among which 
is that of impelling the apparatus by clock- 
work or machinery suited to the special 
purpose to which it is to be put, — some of 
the expected applications, as enumerated 
by the inventor, are those of letter-writing 
and other forms of dictation, books, educa- 
tion, public or private readings, music, 
family record, also such electrotype ap- 
plications as books, musical boxes, toys, 
clocks, advertising and signaling appara- 
tus, speeches, etc. Of the first of these 
uses, (and which may be said to illustrate 
representatively the ingenuity involved in 
the adaptation of the contrivance to other 
specialties), the general principles of con- 
struction adopted by Mr. Edison consist in 
having a flat plate or disk, with spiral 
groove on the face, operated by clock-work 
underneath the plate, the grooves being 
cut very closely together so as to give a 
great total length to each surface — close 
calculation showing the capacity of each 
sheet of foil upon which the record is had 
to be in the neighborhood of forty thou- 
sand words. Allowing the sheets to be 
ten inches square, the cost would be so 
trifling that but one hundred words might 



MIEACLES OF SCIENCE. 



687 



be put upon a single sheet economically, 
the chief point to be effectuated by experi- 
ment in this case, being, of course, that 
each sheet have as great capacity as possi- 
ble. This form of Phonograph for com- 
munications Mr. EJisou characterizes as 
very simple in practice. Thus, a sheet of 
tin-foil is placed in the phonograph, the 
clock-work set in motion, and the matter 
dictated into the mouthpiece, without other 
effort than when dictating to a stenog- 
rapher. It is then removed, placed in a 
suitable form of envelope, and sent though 
the ordinary channels to the correspondent 
for whom designed, — he, placing it upon 
his phonograph, starts his clock-work and 
listens to what his correspondent has to 
say; inasmuch, then, as it gives the tone 
of voice of Ills correspondent, it is identi- 
fied, and, as it may be filed away as other 
letters, and at any subsequent time re- 
produced, it is a perfect record. 

A kindred instrument, in some respects, 
with the preceding, — and like that a gen- 
uine marvel, — is the Miceophone, or 
transmitter of sound, by the use of which, 
a mere touch, or so small a sound as the 
tick of a watch, for instance, may be heard 
at the distance of miles, and the walking 
of a fly resembles the tramp of an elephant 
or the tread of a horse on a rough road. 
The telephone brings the sound from a 
distance, and the microphone magnifies 
the sound when it is thus brought near, — 
thus rendering the latter just as appli- 
cable to the sounds transmitted from Lon- 
don or Dublin to New York, if transmis- 
sible so far, as to the sounds in a vibrating 
plate which is within a few inches of the 
listener's ear. The invention depends on 
so breakin;;, by the interposition of char- 
coal permeated by fine atoms of mercury, 
the currents transmitted by the telephonic 
wire, that the sound is vastly increased by 
the interruption — just as heat is known to 
be vastly increased by a similar interrup- 
tion of a current, even to the turning of 
metallic wire to a red or white heat. Thus 
the microphone will make a minute sound 
audible, whether it be close or far off. 

In Edison's pile instrument, a piece of 



cork is fastened to the diaphragm, and 
presses upon a strip of platinum which is 
attached to a plate of copper ; the latter 
is one of the terminals of an ordinary 
galvanic pile. The other terminal plate 
presses against the metallic frame of the 
instrument. When the pile is included in 
a closed telephone circuit, it furnishes a 
continuous current, the strength of this 
current depending upon the internal re- 
sistance of the pile and its polarization, 
and these are varied by vibrating the 
diaphragm; the pile is composed of alter- 
nate plates of zinc and copper, and a bibu- 
lous medium between the pairs of plates. 

A simple form of microphone, also, is 
constructed with a wooden diaphragm one- 
eighth of an inch thick and four inches 
square, this being glued to a narrow frame 
supported by suitable legs Two pieces 
of batter}' carbon are secured by means of 
sealing wax to the diaphragm, about an 
inch apart, and at equal distances from the 
centre. They are both inclined downward 
at an angle of about thirty degrees. One 
of the pieces of carbon is longer than the 
other, and has in its under surface three 
conical holes, made with a penknife point, 
which are large enough to receive the 
upper ends of the graphite pencils, tne 
lower ends of the pencils resting in slight 
cavities in the lower carbon ; these pencils 
are simply pencil leads sharpened at both 
ends and placed loosely between the car- 
bons, — they are also inclined at different 
angles, so that the motion of the diaphragm 
^^hich would jar one of them would simply 
move the others so as to transmit the sound 
properly. 

The development or conception of the 
microphone is stated to have been as for- 
tuitous as the discovery of the phonograph. 
Thus, in the Hughes device, the Professor 
was led by his experiments to place a small 
electric battery in circuit with the tele- 
phone. He was surprised to find, on add- 
ing weights to a fine wire through which 
the current was flowing, that, just before 
the breaking strain was reached — just 
when the fibres of the metal were torn 
asunder — a peculiar rushing sound was 



688 



MIRACLES Gi^ SCIENCE. 



observable in the telephone. He then 
tried whether he could reproduce this 
noise by loosely binding the wires again 
together, and he found that by this means 
he had hit upon a wonderfully sensitive 
detector of sounds, — any noise near the 
wires being immediately taken up by the 
telephone with startling distinctness The 
slightest attachment of the wires procured 
the same results, and then the joined wires 
were modified into an apparatus which 
merely consisted of three nails, two being 
parallel and connected with the battery 
wires, and the third resting upon them. 
Although this ridiculously simple arrange- 
ment was capable of transmitting all kinds 
of noises to a distant place, the sounds 
were confused. This led to experiments 
with different conducting substances, the 
most reliable results, however, being ob- 
tained from the various forms of carbon. 
An arrangement was then devised which 
not only proved successful, but so sensi- 
tive, in fact, as to be almost beyond con- 
trol, namely, a tiny pencil of fine gas coke 
dropped into indentations in two blocks 
of the same material. This compact little 
instrument, fastened to a cigar box, it was 
found would transmit to a lung distance 



the ticking of a watch placed near it, — 
the gentle touch of a feather, or a camel's 
hair pencil, reached the ear as the rasping 
of a file, while the scratch of a quill pen 
in the act of writing was augmented to a 
loud noise. But better than this form, of 
course, is that of a base board about three 
inches long, having screwed upon it two 
little angle pieces of brass plate, and a 
metallic bar, pivoted on to these brass 
supports, with a piece of carbon at its 
end ; this carbon block rests upon two 
similar pieces kept together by a cloth 
hinge placed at the side, and the lower 
block, to which one of the battery wires is 
attached, is fastened to the board ; the 
pressure upon these carbon surfaces is 
controlled by a delicate .spring of brass 
wire, which is attached to a screw with a 
milled head. By turning this screw, the 
pressure is nicely adjusted, from the very 
light contact required for delicate sounds 
to the comparatively heavy pressure wanted 
when the sounds are more intense. But, 
to describe this marvelous instrument in 
the various forms of construction already 
given to it by inventors at home and 
abroad, notwithstanding its recent intro- 
duction, would require scores of pages. 



LXXXIII. 

CENTENNIAL COMMEMORATION OF THE BIRTH OF THE 

REPUBLIC— 1876. 



Year of Jubilee, Festival, and Pageant, throughout the Land.— Prosperity, Power, and Renown of the 
Nation— A Union of Nearly Forty Great Commonwealths and Forty Million People.— Anticipations 
of the Coming Anniversary —Legislation by Congress for its Patriotic Observance -A Grand Exposi- 
tion of the Century's Growth and Progress, the Principal Feature Decided Upon— Vast Work of 
Preparation — Tlie Whole World at Peace, and All Countries and Climes in Sympathy with the 
Republic and its Auspicious Era.-Ushering in the Year's Ceremonials.-Every City, Town, and 
Villa-e Covered with Gay Streamers and Waving Flags.-Pomp, Parade, and Universal Fraterniza- 
tion -Wondrous Microcosm of Civilization Concentrated at Philadelphia.-The Culminating Art 
and'skill of Sixty Centuries of Human Advancement, and the Products of Every Quarter of the 
Globe Displayed in their Richest lUustrations.-An Unprecedented Scene : President and Emperor 
Receiving the Salutations of the American People-Oratory, Music, Poetry, Bells, Illuminations, 
Cannon, Regatt.,s, Banners, Hallelujahs and Huzzas.-The Beauty, Utility, and Magnificence of the 
Orient and Occident, in Boundless Combinations.-The " Glorious Fourth." All Over the Land. 
—Congratulatory Letter from the Emperor of Germany. 



country and their development, and of it» progreB. in those arts »h,eh benefit mankmd. -Pbeside.nt Ukani 



NE hundred years after the Dec- 

• laration of Independence at Phil 

adelphia, which great event gave 

:5^ birth and national sovereignty to 
a new Republic, the centennial 

' commemoration of that august act 
filled the land with such festival 

- and pageant of joy, as only a free 
people — prosperous, powerful, and 
renowned,— could be expected to 
exhibit. From a feeble beginning, 
of thirteen weakly colonies, with 
a scattered population of three 
million people, struggling with 
war and debt, they had now at- 
tained to the colossal growth of 

OF INDEPENDENCE. , . t. i-^ 

nearly forty great commonwealths and forty million inhabitants and m 'e^P^c Jo 
Xtver rTlates to man's material and moral advancement, found themselves unexceUed 
by any empire O' kingdom on the face of the wide earth. 




HOL'SE IN WHICH TUOJI.^S .lEFI'EKS. ,N WltoIE THE DECLAKATION 
OF INDEPENDENCE 



C90 



CENTENNIAL COMMEMOEATJGN. 



Anticipation? oi the coming anniversary 
had long bee a prominent in the minds of 
the people and, in view of the peculiarly 
national character of the event, it was at 
an early stage of the discussion brought 
before the assembled wisdom of the repub- 
lic, iu the halls of congress, the result of 
which was the adoption of the idea that 
had for some time become widely popular, 
namely, that an exhibition of American 
and foreign arts, products, and manufac- 
tures be held, under the auspices of the 
government of the United States, in the 
city of Philadelphia, in the year 1876. 
To this end, the centennial commission 
was appointed — two commissioners from 
each state and territory, nominated by 
their respective governors, and approved 
by the president. Under this organiza- 
tion, the vast work of preparation com- 
menced, and, on the fourth of July, 1873, 
the ground set apart for the purpose was 
dedicated with appropriate ceremonies. 
The result of the succeeding three years 
of labor on the part of the commission, 
showed that not only from every section of 
our own land did the choicest contributions 
accumulate in every department of art, 
science, and mechanism, but that all for- 
eign countries also, — in response to the 
invitation extended to them by the Amer- 
ican government, — were in sympathy with 
the Republic and its auspicious era; so 
that, at the time designated for the grand 
ushering in of the years ceremonials, there 
was presented the most wondrous micro- 
cosm of civilization ever concentrated in 
one locality. There was, in fact, the cul- 
minating art and skill of sixty centuries 
I of human advancement, and the products 
_ of every quarter of the globe, displayed in 
their richest illustrations, — the beauty, 
utility, and magnificence, of the Orient 
and Occident, in boundless combinations. 

On the day of the formal inauguration 
of the exposition, and at which were pres- 
ent hundreds of thousands of joyous spec- 
tators^ with dignitaries from both hemi- 
spheres, the occasion was appropriately 
introduced by the vast orchestra perform- 
ing the national airs of all nations, as fol- 



lows: The V/ashii:gtoii Mar'^h; Argen- 
tine Republic, Marche de la Republica; 
Austria, Gott erbalte I'ranz den Kaiser; 
Belgium, La Brabansonne ; Brazil, Hymno 
Brasileira Nacional; Denmark, Volkslied 
— den tappre Landsoldat; France, La 
Marseillaise; Germany, Was ist des 
Deutschen Vaterland ; Great Britain, God 
Save the Queen; Italj^, Marcia del Re: 
Netherlands, Wie neerlandsch bloed ; Nor- 
way, National Hymn; Russia, National 
Hymn ; Spain, Riego's Spanish National 
Hymn ; Sweden, Volksongen — Bevare Gud 
var Kung; Switzerland, Heil dir Helve- 
tia; Turkey, March; Hail Columbia. 

Tollowing this musical prelude, the bold 
chords of Wagner's centennial inauguration 
march filled the air with floods of richest 
harmony ; solemn prayer was offered by 
Bishop Simpson ; and then a superb chorus 
of nearly a thousand voices, accompanied 
by orchestra and organ, sang Whittier's 
centennial hymn, set to music by John K. 
Payne. Formal presentation being now 
made of the building to the United State.« 
Centennial Commission by the president 
of the board of finance to General Hawley, 
president of the centennial commission, a 
cantata was sung with fine effect, the 
words by Lanier, of Georgia, and the 
music by Buck, after which the ceremo- 
nial presentation of the Exhibition to the 
President of the United States was made 
by General Hawley, in an eloquent address, 
to which General Grant responded in a 
eulogistic speech of acceptance, reviewing 
the progress of the century, bidding the 
whole world welcome, and declaring the 
exhibition open. On this announcement, 
the orchestra, chorus and great organ burst 
forth into triumphal strains of the ' Halle- 
lujah,' from the "Messiah," acclamations 
and huzzas rent the air ; and the unprec- 
edented spectacle was witnessed, of an 
American President and a crowned Empe- 
ror — the emperor of Brazil being present, 
and at President Grant's side, — receiving 
the enthusiastic salutations of the Ameri- 
can people. 

The case of Dom Pedro, it may be here 
remarked, furnishes the only instance in 



CENTENNIAL COMMEMORATION. 



69 ] 




692 



CENTENNIAL COMMEMORATION. 



the history of our century, of a reigning 
crowned head visiting the United States, 
with the exception of Kalakaua, king of 
the Sandwich Islands, whose tour occur- 
red ill 1874-5. 

And here may be cited one of the most 
notahle scenes which transpired on this 
wonderful occasion, namely, the starting 
of the stupendous engine constructed by 
Tilr. Corliss, which was to move the four- 
teen acres of machinery, comprising some 
eight thousand different machines, in the 
building devoted to that specialty. This 
starting operation was performed jointly 
by President Grant and Emperor Dom 
Pedro II., under the direction of Mr. Cor- 
liss. These two great personages took the 




THE CORLISS ENGIHE. 

positions assigned them by Mr. Corliss, 
who explained by a motion of the hands 
and a word or two, as to how the engines 
were to be started by the single turning 
of a slender steel arm, like the brake of a 
street railway car, — this action opening 
the throttle valve, and then the vast but 
quiet building would be instantly alive 
with all the functions of every kind of a 
lactory in full practice. The time had 
arrived for the movement, and a most 
imposing array of eminent officials sur- 
rounded the president and emperor. 
"Now, Mr. President," said Mr. Corliss. 
"Well," said the president, quietly, "how 



shall I do it ? " The answer was, "Turn 
that little crank around six times." Pres- 
ident Grant made a motion with his fin- 
gers, inquiringlj-, "This way?" "Yes." 
In anotlier half minute, the screw was 
turned by the president, the colossal ma- 
chine above him began to move, the miles 
of shafting along the building began to 
revolve, innumerable steel and iron organ- 
isms were set going, and a visitor who 
retraced his steps could examine the proc- 
esses of half the important manufactures on 
the globe. At the wave of Mr. Corliss's 
hand, the emperor gave a sharp turn of 
his wrist and started his engine a moment 
in advance of the j^resident; but the re- 
sponse of the machinery at the single 
touch of these two men — countless wheels 
turning, bands beginning their rounds, 
cogs fitting into their places, pistons driv- 
ing backward and forward and up and 
down, jjerforming their infinitely varied 
functions — was so almost simultaneous, 
that few suspected that the Brazilian 
monarch had outstripped his host. This 
engine weighs eight hundred tons; will 
drive eight miles of shafting; has a fly- 
wheel thirty feet in diameter and weigh- 
ing seventy tons ; is of fourteen hundred 
horse-power, with a capacity of being 
forced to twenty-five hundred ; has two 
walking-beams, weighing twenty-two tons 
each ; two fortj'-inch cylinders, a ten-feet 
stroke, a crank-shaft nineteen inches in 
diameter and twelve feet in length; con- 
necting rods twenty-four feet in length, 
and piston rods six and one-fourth inches 
in diameter ; height from the floor to the 
top of the walking-beams, thirty-nine feet. 
It was in vastness, power, and ingenuity, 
the mechanical marvel of the exhibition. 

The plan of construction for the accom- 
modation of the several grand features of 
the exposition, comprised five main build- 
ings conveniently located at different 
points on the five hundred acres devoted 
to centennial purposes, being about one- 
sixth of the area of Fairmount Park, on 
the Schuylkill river, than which no more 
delightful locality could have been selected. 
These structures consisted, respectively, of 



CENTENNIAL COMMEMORATION. 



393 



the main building, having an area of about 
twenty-cue and a-half acres ; that for ma^ 
chinery, fourteen acres ; for agriculture, ten 
acres; for horticulture, one and a-half; 
for art, one and a-half. In addition to 
these, the number of special structures, 
including the memorial hall, and those 
erected by the United States government, 
by foreign nations, by the different States, 
by the women, etc., etc., was among the 
hundreds. Many of these were of great 
cost and striking architectural beauty, 
and, with statues, fountains, flower plots, 
and other decorative objects innumerable, 
produced a scene of surpassing attraction. 

The variet}' of special celebrative events, 
in combination with the wondrous display 
of every marvel and masterpiece gathered 
from art and nature in the four continents, 
attending this centennial commemoration, 
may be judged of by the following pro- 
gramme: Harvesting display; trials of 
steam plows and tillage implements; ex- 
hibition of horses and mules, — of horned 
cattle, — of sheep, swine, goats, and dogs, 
— of poultry ; national gathering of the 
Order of Good Templars; international 
regatta; yacht regatta; gathering of the 
Sons of Temperance ; the Grand Army of 
the Republic ; Knights Templars ; wo- 
men's temperance union ; Am. musical as- 
sociation ; international series of cricket 
matches ; congress of authors in Inde- 
pendence Hall; parade of Roman Catholic 
societies and dedication of their magnifi- 
cent fountain; parade of military organ- 
izations ; parade of the Knights of Pyth- 
ias ; international rowing regatta; inter- 
national rifle matches ; international med- 
ical congress ; parade of the Odd Fellows ; 
reunions of the army of the Potomac, 
Cumberland, and James ; etc., etc. 

Memorial Hall, or the art gallery, a 
most beautiful structure, was erected at 
the expense of the state of Pennsylvania 
and the city of Philadelphia, as a perma^ 
nent commemoration of the centennial. 
In its construction, nothing but granite, 
brick, glass and iron, were used. Its su- 
perb hall, pavilions, galleries and arcades, 
are surmounted with a dome of crystal 



and iron, terminating in a colossal bell, 
and, at the apex, Columbia rises, with 
protecting hands. Within these walls, 
the treasures of painting and sculpture 
displayed were almost beyond enumera- 
tion — certainly beyond description. 

The colossal proportions of the main 
building struck every visitor's wondering 
attention, — relieved, however, by its ex- 
quisitely artistic form and endless expanse 
of complementary colors, — and, within, a 
universe of the wonderful and beautiful, 
such as the eye of man never before be- 
held nor his hand created. The position 
of tl^e nations in this vast structure was 
an inl^eresting matter to determine, being 
finally decided as follows: Within the 
line of railing extending across the en- 
trance, to the north of the nave, the pavil- 
ions of Italy ; passing east, the arrange- 
ment comprised Norway, then Sweden, 
with the English colonies as a neighbor ; 
Canada adjoined, and then the mother 
country. Great Britain, occupying a large 
space down to the transept ; beyond En- 
gland was France, and the next in line, 
still on the north of the nave, Switzerland ; 
near the eastern end, and covering as much 
room as France, Switzerland, Belgium, 
Brazil, the Netherlands, and Mexico com- 
bined, the United States exhibited her 
wonderful progress, in innumerable illus- 
trations ; opposite to Great Britain, ap- 
peared the German Empire, alongside 
Austria, and Hungary in the rear; ap- 
proaching still towards the west, but on 
the south side of the nave, came Russia 
and Spain, and, along the nave, followed 
Egypt, Turkey, Denmark, and Sweden, 
while in the rear of these were Tunis, 
Portugal, and the Sandwich Islands; in 
the front rank was Japan, facing Norway 
and Sweden, and next to the latter, and 
back of her, was China; Chili had a place 
near the entrance from the west, and, near 
by, was the Argentine Republic. These 
were the locations of the principal nation- 
alities. 

Handsome, and grand in its amplitude, 
and tasty in its harmonies of form aiid 
color, the machinery building fairly be- 



69^ 



CENTENNIAL COMMEMOKATION. 




CENTENNIAL COM]\IEMORATION. 



695 



wildered both the eye and mind of the 
observer, by its ever-varying contents, 
while the prevalent somberness of its acres 
of iron and steel construction was pleas- 
antly relieved by the cheerful coloring. 
Horticultural hall seemed like some fairy 
palace, with its light and airy design, and 
delicate ornamentation, the grand conserv- 
atory alone constituting a world of beauty 



tures ; was built almost entirely of wood 
and glass, and the color a delicate whitish 
tint throughout, — no effort, however, be- 
ing made in the way of ornamentation, 
but simply to have a structure suitable for 
the purpose and in keeping with the char- 
acter of the exhibits. The woman's build- 
ing, or pavilion, devoted entirely to the 
results of woman's skill, was an attractive 




INDEPENDENCE HALL, JULY 4, 1876. 



to all lovers of nature ; in the flower beds 
surrounding this structure, more than 
thirty thousand hyacinth and tulip bulbs 
were planted, to displa}', with thousands 
of other beautiful plants, their full bloom 
on the opening or inauguration day. Ag- 
ricultural hall was entirely different in 
appearance from any of the other struc- 



structure, covering some thirty thousand 
square feet, and filled with the dulce et 
utile from all lands. The government 
building, of substantial and elegant de- 
sign, contained a revelation of wonders 
connected with the army and navy, the 
department of agriculture, the post-office, 
patent office, signal service, ordnance bu- 



696 



CENTENNIAL COMMEMuilATION. 



reau, light-house board, and all the subor- 
dinate departments and bureaus in any 
way connected with the government. 

In making reference to special objects 
of interest, brief mention is due in the 
case of a magnificent piece of silver bul- 
lion, in one mass, valued at a prodigious 
sum, and showing, in a conspicuous man- 
ner, the metallic riches yet to be unearthed 
in the remote West. 

The Smithsonian Institution showed 
every kind of American bird in an im- 
mense group by itself, also every kind of 
fish, mollusk, reptile and quadruped. 

Queen Victoria's personal contributions 
comprised a number of etchings by her 
own hand, also table napkins spun by her- 
self, and drawings and embroideries from 
her princess daughters. 

The Pennsylvania Bible Society circu- 
lated the scriptures in the language of 
every nationality represented on the 
grounds, a pure white flag floating from 
the top of its pavilion, bearing the words 
of Jer. xxii, 29 : " O Earth, Earth, Earth, 
hear the word of the Lord !" 

Among the evidences of Connecticut's 
skill was the huge centennial time-piece, 
— a clock weighing six tons and having 
eleven hundred pieces, with wheels four 
feet in diameter. 

A collection of models, sent by Massa- 
chusetts, of the various marine craft which 
have been employed in her waters, since 
the first settlement of Plymouth colony 
— some fifty or sixty, most elaborately 
executed, and all perfect in type — from 
the Indian birch canoes and first fishing 
boats used on the coast, up to the most 
improved modern iron-clad, attracted much 
notice. From the Pennsylvania coal mines 
came two blocks of coal, weighing, respec- 
tively, about two and one-fourth and five 
tons ; and, from her steel works, a solid 
ingot of stee! weighing 25,000 pounds, also 
a perfect steel rail, rolled, 120 feet long, 
and weighing 62 pounds per yard. 

In the navy department, the govern- 
ment exhibited curious specimens of shot 
and shells, small arms of all kinds, ships' 
guus and luwitzers, Gatling guns, and 



other terrible instruments of warfare; 
marine engines and boilers, showing the 
improvement made in marine engineering; 
immense cables, with mammoth iron links; 
likewise, beautifully finished models of 
every class of ship on the naval list, in- 
cluding lines of the famous craft on which 
Lawrence, Decatur, and McDonough 
fought and conquered, and the original 
appearance of " Old Ironsides " was finely 
reproduced. The patent office poured 
forth its treasures and curiosities — de- 
vices that have revolutionized labor the 
world over. More than one case was filled 
with relics of the great Washington — the 
clothes worn by him on memorable occa- 
sions, his swords, camp furniture, tents, 
etc. A complete set of maps showed the 
different areas of the United States where 
farm improvements have been made, where 
woods are most abundant, — every tree, 
shrub, flower, root, cereal and fiber, in 
their respective sections, — the fungi that 
destroy the different plants, — and so on. 

Louisiana's products included a tr e 
loaded with the somber, hanging moss, 
that renders some of her landscapes ^o 
gloomy, but which is now being used as a 
substitute for hair in mattresses and ui>- 
holstery. California sent gold quartz of 
surpassing richness, and wonderful grain 
and cacti as well. Of the Indian races, 
the leading features were aptly epitom- 
ized, and their habitations, manners, and 
customs, represented by delegations from 
different tribes. Of universal interest, of 
course, was the original draft of the Dec- 
laration of Independence — to be looked at, 
not touched. Whitefield's portable pulpit, 
which he usually took with him, and from 
which, he once said, the gospel had been 
preached to more than ten millions of peo- 
ple, was another interesting relic; also, 
Gener.al Stark's spurs, John Alden's desk. 
Governor Endicott's folding-chair, the sil- 
ver pitcher used by Lafayette in Boston, 
etc. 

The inventions and handiwork of boy* 
included, among other things, a heavy teii- 
wheel draft locomotive, cylinder eighteen 
by twenty-two inches, and all of consum- 



CENTENNIAL COMMEMORATION. 



6'J7 



mate finish. The kiiulerg.arten plan of 
teaching was most fully illustrated in all 
its appliances auj methods. 

Massachusetts sent, among its rich and 
varied contributions, an organ of gigantic 
proportions, having fifty-nine stops and 
four banks of keys, its longest pipe being 
thirty-two feet and the shortest less than 
one inch; also, industrial designs, of strik- 
ing character, from the Massachusetts in- 
stitute of technology. Noticeable as a 
most sumptuous article of taste, was a 
hundred thousand dollar necklace from 



pie on the globe, — with her thousands of 
specimens of corn, cotton, sugar, her woods, 
fruits, honey, perfumery, scimetars; Aus- 
tralia, her mineral and agricultural prod- 
ucts, tin, iron, wool, wood; Canada, her 
row-boats, furs, iron-work; Scotland, her 
cut stones and precious gems, in every 
form of exquisite jewelry ; Switzerland, 
her watches of world-famed beauty ; Nor- 
way, and Sweden, their glass-work, wood 
carvings, porcelains, irons and steels ; Hol- 
land, her magnificent models of sea-coast 
works, bridges, dams, aqueducts ; Belgium, 




U:\iON SQUARE. XEW YORK, JULY 4, 1S7G. 



New York city, also the Bryant vase ; 
and, from Providence, the ' century vase,' 
of solid silver, being five feet four inches 
in length and four feet two inches high, 
and weighing two thousand ounces. Each 
State and section, in a word, presented its 
special exhibits, in superbest examples and 
endless profusion, tiring the eye and baf- 
fling description. 

Glancing a moment at the countless 
riches in every department of nature, art, 
and mechanism, which flowed from foreign 
nations of every zone, mention may first 
be made of Egypt — the most ancient peo- 



her curiously carved balustrades, cornice 
ornaments, statues ; China, her jars, vuses, 
and other specimens of ceramic art ; Japan, 
her multitudinous porcelains and bronzes ; 
Cuba, her palms, agaves, cact, and other 
tropical plants; Ital^', her fine art contri- 
butions, including rare and priceless gems 
from the Vatican, sent by Pius IX. ; 
France, with its selectest elaborations in 
almost every department of knowledge 
ami handicraft, not least among which 
being its Gobelin tapestries and Sevn.s 
fabrics; Great Britain, her infinitude of 
woolen, cotton and silk goods, carpetings, 



698 



CENTENNIAL COMMEMOEATION. 



hardware, and paintings from illustrious 
artists ; — and so followed on, in magnifi- 
cent array, Austria, Germany, Russia, 
Spain, Portugal, Denmark, Turkey, Brazil, 
and others of the great family of nations, 
with the choicest products of their mines 
and looms, foundries and workshops, lapi- 
daries and ateliers. 

But why commence, even, the impossi- 
ble task of describing fifty teeming acres 
of templed wonders from every clime — 
the marvels and masterpieces of nature, 
science, and art, in bewildering variety 
and richness. No traversing, in fact, at 
all equal to the occasion, can here be es- 
sayed. It will require, indeed, all the 
copious volumes intended to be issued 
under official auspices, adequately to elab- 
orate and portray the genius and results 
presented in a disjilay so unexampled in 
the history of man. 

Nor would it be scarcely less impos- 
sible, in the scope of a single chapter, to 
sufficiently characterize the enthusiasm, 
"wide-spread as the continent, which usher- 
ed in and prolonged the observance of the 
Anniversarj- Day in especial, — July 
Fourth, — which numbered the first hun- 
dred years of the greatest republic upon 
which the sun ever shone. To say tliat 
the festal ingenuity of nearly forty great 
States and forty millions of people, with 
their tens of thousands of cities, towns, 
and villages, fairly spent itself, in efforts 
to suitably commemorate the Wonderful 
Anniversary, is only faintly expressing the 
fact. It was a festival of oratory, music, 
poetry, parade, bells, illuminations, regat- 
tas, cannon, banners, hallelujahs and huz- 
zas. 

At Philadelphia, the central point of 
historic interest and centennial ovation, 
the resources of a whole nation's pomp 
and glory seemed drawn upon, on a scale 
eclipsing, in extent and variety, anj' cele- 
brative occasion in the annals of the re- 
public. Congress, sitting in its halls in 
the capitol at Washington, had a few days 
previously passed a resolution of adjourn- 
ment to meet, on this wonderful da}', in 
Independence Hall, where, one hundred 



years before, occurred the birth of the 
nation, and where, subsequently, was 
framed that immortal instrument which 
gave to the republic a constitutional gov- 
ernment, the wisest and most admirable 
ever conceived by uninspired men. 

That the celebration in this city was, 
in every respect worthy of an occasion so 
august and of a spot so historically sacred 
and national, was universally admitted. 
A parade of troops, societies aud officials 
took place in the morning, ending at In- 
dependence Hall. The Centennial legion 
of troops from North and South was 
commanded by General Heath, formerly 
of the confederate army, and the proces- 
sion in various other waj's reflected the 
strength of the renewed feeling of national 
unity and fraternity. In Independence 
Square, the vice-president of the United 
States, Hon. Thomas W. Ferry, presided ; 
prayer was offered by Bishop Stevens; 
Dr. W. Holmes's 'Welcome to the 
Nations' was sung; Bayard Taylor read 
his national ode; Hon. William M. Ev- 
arts pronounced the oration ; the Declara- 
tion of Independence was read by Richard 
Henry Lee of Virginia, from the original 
document, which Pre.«ident Grant had in- 
trusted for the purpose to the mayor of 
Philadelphia. The faded and crumbled 
manuscript, held together by a simple 
frame, was then shown to the assembled 
multitude facing the platform, cheer fol- 
lowing cheer, at this rare spectacle. 
There was also sung the "Greeting from 
Brazil," a hymn composed for the occasion 
by A. Carlos Gomez, of Brazil, by the 
request of the Emperor, Dom Pedro. 
After the ode, the orchestra performed a 
grand triumphal march, with chorus, " Our 
National Banner," the words being by 
Dexter Smith, of Massachusetts, and the 
music by Sir Julius Benedict, of England. 
On the orator retiring from the speaker's 
stand, the Hallelujah chorus from the 
" Messiah " was sung, and then the whole 
of the ■vast throng united in singing the 
Old Hundredth Psalm. The magnificent 
spectacle presented by the procession was, 
however, the scene witnessed and enjoyed 



CENTENNIAL COMMEMORATION. 



69b 




700 



CENTENNIAL COMMEMORATION. 



with most general interest and admiration. 
It was miles in length, and in its ranks 
every one of the thirteen original States 
had a picked corps, and it was very evi- 
dent, from the hearty manner in which 
General Heath, — in the absence of Gen- 
eral Burnside, — formerly commanders, re- 
spectively, on the field of battle, of ' the 
boys in blue' and •the boys in gray,' but 
now knowing but one color and one flag — 
was received, that the fraternization of 
the North and the South was genuine and 
complete, on this great natal anniversary. 
The procession was under the lead of 
General and Governor Hartranft, and the 
splendid pageant was reviewed by General 
Sherman, Lieutenant- General Sheridan, 
and General Hooker, in whose company, 
on the guests' platform, were to be seen 
hundreds of official dignitaries, of civil and 
military fame. 

In Boston, as the representative metrojv 
olis of New England, and as the spot 
where, almost above all others, our nation's 
liberties had their origin and chief support, 
the preparations for the anniversary had 
been ma:le on a splendid scale, and these 
were carried out with perfect success to 
the end, witnessed and enjoyed by the 
patriotic multitudes who thronged the 
beautifully decorated city from the earli- 
est hour. There were parades, concerts, 
regattas, balloon ascensions, fire-works, 
and commemorative services at the great 
Music Hall, under the auspices of the 
municipal government, the orator being 
the Hon. Robert C. Winthrop, a direct 
descendant of Governor Winthrop, of co- 
lonial times, and the Declaration of Inde- 
pendence being read by Mr. Brooks Ad- 
ams, a great-grandson of John Adams, the 
revolutionary patriot and leader. On the 
orator's platform was an article of extraor- 
dinary interest to the thousands of ej'es 
that were intently concentrated upon it, 
when, as Mr. Winthrop, in the early part 
of his oration, said : " And here, by the 
favor of a highly valued friend and fellow- 
citizen, to whom it was given by Jefferson 
himself a few months only before his death, 
I am privileged to hold in my hands, aud 



to lift up to the eager gaze of you all, a 
most compact and convenient little ma- 
hogany case, which bears this autograph 
inscription on its face, dated Monticello, 
November 18, 1825,— 

' Thomas Jefferson gives this writing 
desk to Joseph Coolidge, Jr., as a memo- 
rial of his affection. It was made from a 
drawing of his own, by Ben Randall, cab- 
inetmaker of Philadelphia, with whom he 
first lodged on his arrival in that city in 
May, 1776, and is the identical one on 
which he wrote the Declaration of Inde- 
pendence. Politics, as well as Religion, 
has its superstitions. These, gaining 
strength with time, may, one day, give 
imaginary value to this relic, for its asso- 
ciation with the birth of the Great Charter 
of our Independence.' 

Superstitions ! Imaginary value ! Not 
for an instant (continued Mr. Winthrop,) 
can we admit such ideas. The modesty of 
the writer has betrayed even the masterly 
pen. There is no imaginary value to this 
relic, and no superstition is required to 
render it as precious and priceless a piece 
of wood as the secular cabinets of the 
world have ever possessed, or ever claimed 
to possess. No cabinet-maker on earth 
will have a more enduring name than this 
inscription has secured to ' Ben Randall of 
Philadelphia' No pen will have a wider 
or more lasting fame than his who wrote 
the inscription." The applause elicited 
by these remarks showed that the hearts 
of the great audience were still filled with 
the spirit of the fathers and founders of 
the republic, and that patriotic reverence 
for their names and deeds had suffered no 
decay. 

Conspicuously attractive, during the 
whole day, to the enthusiastic throngs, 
were the venerable buildings, still remain- 
ing, so memorably associated with the part 
taken by Boston during the revolutionary 
struggle. In the center of the portico at 
the east end of the Old State House, 
appeared prominently a fine copy of Paul 
Revere's painting of the King-Street Mas- 
sacre, eighteen by ten feet, showing on 
one side the British soldiers firing upon 



CENTENNIAL COMMEMORATION. 



701 



the population, several of whom lie on the 
ground, weltering in their blood. Over 
the picture was a banner inscribed witli 
the words, "Massacre of the People by 
the British Troops," and, on a wreath 
above, the date— 1776. On each side of 
the painting stood figures of the Goddess 
of Liberty holding the American flag in 




ENTRANCE OF THE NEW YORK SEVENTH REGIMENT. 

one hand and an olive branch in the other. 
On each end of the portico were placed 
faces and flags of different nations, while 
above all, on the coping of a window, was 
perched an eagle, holding in its beak fes- 
toons of the red, white and blue. Faneuil 
Hall, the Old Cradle of Liberty, was 
another of th«se patriotic shrines. On its 
western end was placed a medallion, ten 
feet in diameter, in the center of which 



was a portrait of Lafayette, surrounded by 
tlie following sentiment, which was offered 
by the illustrious Frenchman at a banquet 
given to him by the authorities, in Au- 
gust, 1824, viz. : 'The city of Boston— 
the Cradle of Liberty ; may Faneuil Hall 
ever stand a monument to teach the 
world that resistance to oppression is a 
duty, and will, under true republican 
institutions, become a blessing.' The 
medallion was encompassed by a glory 
of French and American flags, and above 
stood the Goddess of Liberty holding fes- 
toons of bunting. Christ Church, King's 
Chapel, and especially the Old South 
Church — within the walls of wliich last 
named building, Warren, and Adams, and 
Otis, and the sons of liberty, gathered 
and spoke — were likewise places of most 
attractive interest. Local celebrations 
were held, also, in the various capitals of 
the States, as well as in hundreds and 
thousands of other cities, towns and vill- 
ages, calling forth every manner and mode 
of joyous festivity, on the part of old and 
young ; and statesmen, judges, generals, 
the " honorable of the land," furnished 
abundant oratory, and a vast amount of 
local history of permanent value. The 
honor of firing the first centennial salute 
in the United States — that at the first 
instant of day-break — is claimed, in point 
of localit}' and time, for Eastport, Me. 

In New York, as in Philadelphia, the 
jubilistic demonstrations commenced on a 
truly metropolitan scale, on the evening 
of the third. Indeed, the most vivid de- 
scription would convey only a faint idea of 
the picturesque and imposing appearance 
presented in the principal squares and 
avenues, from nine o'clock until far into 
the night. In Union Square, the whole 
scene was one of unparalleled beauty and 
grandeur, and nothing could be more 
impressive than wlien the advanced guard 
of the monster procession marched into 
the square by way of the plaza. It was 
almiist an hour after the start of the pro- 
cession before the head entered the grounds 
and took position. The members of the 
Sangerfer Bund were in full force of about 



V02 



CENTENNIAL COMJIEMORATION. 



one thousand, on the platform, while the 
many bands that took part in the pro- 
cession assembled between the grand stand 
and the singers' stand. As soon as the 
immense concourse of people became set- 
tled, the singing societies performed, with 
grand effect, various martial and patriotic 
airs. Here, as in other parts of the chy, 
the display of fire-works was magnificent ; 
in fact, the lower portion of the city was, 
in this respect, a scene of bewildering 
splendor, Broadway being, as it were, a 
sea of fire from Dey street to Union square 
plaza. An electric apparatus at one of the 
lofty telegraph buildings poured a flood of 
light over the great thoroughfare ; among 
the buildings particularly brilliant with 
illuminations were the city hall, of im- 
mense and multitudinous windows, the 
bank, insurance, and newspaper buildings, 
the hotels, places of business, and a count 
less number of private residences, and never 
before in the history of the city was there 
such universal and gorgeous decoration. 
Castle William fired a salute of one hun- 
dred guns from its prodigious fifteen-inch 
cannon, the church bells chimed and rang, 
the locomotive and steam-boat whistles 
screamed ; while all over the city, as well 
as Brooklyn, Jersey City, and neighbor- 
ing localities, could be seen thousands of 
rockets, blue lights, bombs, and other 
pyrotechnics. Rev. Dr. Storrs was the 
orator of the day. 

Great parades, illuminations, and decor- 



ations, were the chief features in all the 
large western cities of the republic. The 
St. Louis Germans exhibited, in common 
with their intelligent and thrifty country- 
men throughout all the Union, the utmost 
patriotic enthusiasm, the special demon- 
stration consisting of a vast torch-light 
procession, and an address bj'' the Hon. 
Carl Schurz. San Francisco began Mon- 
day and ran through Wednesday with its 
varied and magnificent festivities, which 
included a military review, a sham battle, 
with mock bombardment from the forts 
and ships in the harbor and b.ay, torch- 
light display, orations, music, etc. In 
Washington, on account of the ofiicial par- 
ticipation in the exercises at Philadelphia, 
the celebration was mainly under the 
auspices of the Oldest Inhabitants' Asso- 
ciation, at the opera-house, where the 
Declaration of Independence — adopted 
when what is now the federal capital was 
a wilderness — was read, and an oration 
pronounced by Hon. L. A. Gobright ; and 
everywhere the national ensigns, floating 
from staff and tower, told of the wondrous 
anniversary. 

In the southern cities, Richmond led off 
at midnight preceding, by the firing of 
guns at five different points in and about 
the city, the festivities continuing far into 
the night succeeding ; and, in Norfolk and 
Portsmouth, no Fourth of July had, for 
many years, been so generally observed. 
Fire-crackers and cannon were brought 




CENTENNIAL COMMEMORATION. 



703 



into requisition, various societies paraded 
the streets, and manj' houses were finely 
decorated with flags ; salutes were fired at 
sunrise, noon, and sunset, by the naval 
receiving ship and the monitors, all the 
government and commercial vessels were 
decked with bunting, and thousands of 
people went down to Fortress Monroe to 
witness the fire-works there displayed. 
Montgomery, Ala., bid farewell to the Old 
and saluted the New century of indepen- 
dence, in handsome style, all business 
being suspended, the streets and houses 
streaming with the red, white, and blue ; 
a salute of thirteen guns was fired at break 
of day, and of thirty-seven at noon ; a pro- 
cession of military and fire companies and 
citizens marched through the streets, and 



commemorated by a grand banquet at the 
Westminster Palace Hotel, under the 
auspices of the American legation, a large 
and distinguished company of citizens of 
the United States and their English 
friends being present. It was a magnifi- 
cent occasion, worthy of the centennial of 
the greatest Republic in the world. Toasts 
to the health of President Grant and 
Queen Victoria were received with ap- 
plause and music. The sentiment, ' The 
Day we Celebrate,' was responded to by 
Rev. Dr. Thompson ; ' The Mother Coun- 
try,' by Mr. Henry Richard, M. P. ; ' The 
City of London,' by the Lord Mayor ; 
' The Army and Navy,' by Major-General 
Crawford ; and ' The newly-appointed Min- 
ister of the United States,' by Hon Ed- 







WOMAN'S PAVILION. 



Ex-Governor Watts delivered an eloquent 
oration, the reading of the Declaration of 
Independence being by Neil Blue, the 
oldest citizen of the place, and the only 
survivor of those who voted for delegates 
to the territorial convention that adopted 
the constitution under which Alabama was 
admitted as one of the Federal Union. 

Most significant, it may be remarked, 
was the respect paid to the occasion in 
foreign countries ; not only the Americans, 
in all the European cities, joined in cele- 
brations, some of them outwardly public 
and participated in by foreigners, but the 
daily press everywhere discussed the day 
and its historical lessons. In Dublin there 
was a popular gathering, numbering thou- 
sands, and spirited political addresses. In 
the city of London, the anniversary was 



wards Pierrepont. Extracts from Bayard 
Taylor's national ode, delivered by him 
the same day in Philadelphia, were read ; 
and letters in response to invitations were 
also read from Mr. Disraeli, Mr. Gladstone, 
the Duke of Argyle, Earl Granville, Lord 
Houghton, the Earl of Roseberry, the 
Earl of Derby, Dean Stanley, John 
Bright, etc. 

In Paris, the American legation was 
superbly decorated with flags and insignia, 
and the American colors were profusely 
displayed in the principal streets. 

In Lisbon, the American ambassador 
held a public reception, and gave a ban- 
quet in the evening; several of the city 
journals also noticed the day, in leading 
articles complimentary to the American 
people. 



704 



CENTENNIAL COMMEMORATION. 



— ^=??-*' = 3f 




THE TCNISIAK TEMT. 



The Americans residing in Frankfort, 
Heidelberg, Offenbach, Wiesbaden, and 
otiier towns in the vicinity, met in the 
Frankfort Palm Garden, and there joy- 
ously celebrated the day with speeches, 
the reading of the immortal Declaration, a 
superb banquet, and closing with a concert 
and magnificent fire-works. In Berlin, 
the day was magnificentlj' celebrated, 
IMinister Davis presiding, and proposing 
' The health of President Grant,' Mr. Fay 
following with a toast to ' The Emperor 
of Germany,' and, among others, ' Ameri- 
can Citizenship,' 'Americans in Europe,' 
and ' The Day we Celebrate,' — the latter 
being in verse. In the evening there was 
a splendid soiree at the American ambas- 
sador's, followed by tableaux vivants rep- 
resenting revolutionary scenes, such as 
Washington at Valley Forge, Antoinette 
receiving Lafayette, etc. At Stuttgart, 
there were salutes, speeches, reading of 
the Declaration, patriotic hymns and songs, 
and other festivities. 

Among the incidental matters, of endur- 
ing interest, pertaining to the day and 
event, and which are here deserving of rec- 
ord, may be mentioned the proclamation 
by the chief magistrate of our nation, in 
which, with becoming deference to and as 
reflecting the religious sense of the people, 
he said : " The centennial anniversary of 
the day on which the people of the United 
States declared their right to a separate 
and equal station among the powers of the 
earth seems to demand an exceptional 
observance. The founders of the govern- 



ment, at its birth, and in its feebleness, 
invoked the blessings and the protection 
of a divine Providence, and the thirteen 
colonies and three millions of people have 
expanded into a nation of strength and 
numbers commanding the position that 
was then asserted, and for which fervent 
praj'ers were then offered. It seems fit- 
ting that, on the occurrence of the one 
hundredth anniversary of our existence as 
a nation, a grateful acknowledgment be 
made to Almightj^ God for the protection 
and the bounties which he has vouchsafed 
to our beloved countr3'. I therefore invite 
the good people of the United States, on 
the approaching Fourth day of July, in ad- 
dition to the usual observances with which 
they are accustomed to greet the return 
of the day, further, in such manner, and 
at such time as in their respective locali- 
ties and religious associations may be 
most convenient, to mark its recurrence 
by some public religious and devout 
thanksgiving to Almighty God, for the 
blessings which have been bestowed upon 
us as a nation, during the centenary of 
our existence, and humbly to invoke a 
contimiance of His favor and of His pro- 
tection." In response to this, many 
places of public worship were opened for 
morning religious devotion. 

Another most notable incident was an 
autograph letter from the Emperor Wil- 
liam, of Germany, to the President, con- 
veving his imperial congratulations to the 
latter and to the American people. This 
remarkable letter was officially presented 



CENTENNIAL COMMEMORATION. 



705 



to President Grant, on the morning of 
July 4th, by the Grerman ambassador in 
person, and was as follows : — 

William, hy the grace of God, Emperor 
of Gerviamj, King of Prussia, etc. 

To THE President of the United 
States : — Great and Good Friend, — It 
has been vouchsafed to you to celebrate 
the Centennial festival of the day wpon 
which the great republic over which j-ou 
preside entered the rank of independent 
nations. The purposes of its founders 
have, bj' a wise application of the teach- 
ings of the history of the foundation of na- 
tions, and with insight into the distant fu- 
ture, been realized by a development with- 
out a parallel. To congratulate you and 
the American people upon the occasion 
affords me so much the greater pleasure, 
because, since the treaty of friendship 
which my ancestor of glorious memory, 
King Frederick II., who now rests with 
God, concluded with the United States, un- 
disturbed friendship has continually exist- 
ed between Germany and America, and has 
been developed and strengthened by the 
ever-increasing importance of their mutual 
relations, and b3' an intercourse, becoming 
more and more fruitful, in every domain 
of commerce and science. That the wel- 
fare of the United States, and the friend- 
ship Ox the two countries, may continue to 
increase, is my sincere desire and confi- 
dent hope. 

Accept the renewed assurance of my 
unquaiified esteem. William. 

Countersigned, Vox Bism.aeck. 
Berlin, June 9, 1876. 

On account of the great interest in this 
friendly document from "Fatherland," 
which was naturally excited among the 
German population of our country, (now 
numbering some millions of our most pat- 
riotic people,) we likewise reproduce the 
letter in its native language, together with 
an authorized fac-simile of the Emperor's 
autograph, also a fine portrait of the vener- 
able monarch, and an engraving of the 
new national flag, — none of which features 



are to l~o found in any other volume pub- 
lished in the United States. 

A letter of similar purport, though not- 
received in season to be delivered to the 
president on the Fourth, was also sent by 
the Czar of Russia, also by King Victor 
Emanuel, of Italy, and from other na- 
tions. 

Noteworthy, perhaps, above all the other 
inspiring incidents of the day, and which 
wrought up the peojile's patriotic sensibil- 
ities to the most fervid pitch, was the 
scene alreadj- briefl}- alluded to on a pre- 
ceding page, when Mayor Stokley pre- 
sented to Richard Henry Lee, of Virginia, 
the original Declaration of Independence, 
— Mr. Lee's grandfather having, one hun- 
dred years ago, offered the resolution to 
the Continental Congress, " that these 
United Colonies are, and of right ought to 
be, free and independent States." On the 
age-dimmed but immortal parchment being 
exhibited, in its massive frame, to the 
sight of the people, men swung their hats, 
and cheered with almost frantic enthus- 
iasm ; women waved their handkerchiefs, 
and in some instances gave audible utter- 
ances to their transjiort of delight ; chil- 
dren innumerable were held uj) in the 
struggling mass of humanity to view the 
venerated national relic ; and, amidst the 
wildest expressions of joy on every side, 
that ascended to and seemed to rend the 
very he.avens, the sacred document was 
read. The chord of unitj' and sympathy, 
full, free, and entire, ran through the vast 
assemblage, as though no territorial sec- 
tionalism had ever marred the nation's 
harmony — or, if it had, that all bj^-gones 
were now happily buried and obliviated. 
And, as between North and South, noth- 
ing could have given more gracious assur- 
ance of present good will and future 
promise of amity and accordant purpose, 
than the message dispatched by the maj-or 
of the former capital of the Southern Con- 
federacy, as follows : " The people of 
Montgomery, Alabama, the birthplace of 
the Confederate government, through ite 
City Council, extend a cordial and fraternal 
greeting to all the people of the United 



roe 



CENTENNIAL COMMEMOEATION. 



States, with an earnest prayer for the per- 
petuation of concord and brotherly feelings 
throughout the land." And in this spirit 
the representatives of all sections met 
together in the city where the Eepuhlic 
had its birth, and in this spirit, too, the 
memorable day was ushered in and cel- 



ebrated wherever floated the ensigns 
of American nationality ; fraternization, 
North, South, East, and West, was uni- 
versal ; all hearts united in the ascription 
of " Glory to God in the highest," for the 
Past ; and deep answered unto deep, in the 
gladsome acclaim 



1^. 



I 




LXXXIV. 

ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT GARFIELD, IN AYASH- 
INGTON, JULY 2, ISSl. 



His Departure from the White House, on that Day, with Secretary Blaine, on a Brief Tear of Recreation 
— Excellent Health. Spirits, and Happy Anticipations. — Arrival at the Depot. — A Lurking Assassin, C. 
J. Guiteau, Approaches in the Rear. — A Startling but Harmless Shot, followed by Another which 
Enters the Body. — The President Sinks to the floor. — A Hideous Tragedy.— Capture of the Murderer ; 
his Character and Utterances. — The Wounded Victim Conveyed in an Ambulance to the Executive 
Mansion.— The Nation Horrified, and the Whole Civilized World Shocked. — Condolences from tlie 
Remotest Courts and Governments. — Unaffected Sympathy from all Political Parties.— Past Differences 
Hushed and Forgotten. — Eleven Weeks of Suffering. — Heroism and Resignation of the Patient. — 
Devotion and Fortitude of the President's Wife.— Removal to Long Branch, X. J.— Temporary Relief, 
— Hovering between Life and Death.— Solemn Prayers for his Recovery. — Sudden and Fatal End of 
the Struggle. — A Pall over Four Continents. — Tributes from Sovereigns and Peoples the World Over. 
— The Wail and Lamentation of Mankind. — Funeral Procession and Ceremonies.— Queen Victoria's 
Floral Offering on the Bier— At Rest, in Lake View Cemetery, Cleveland, Ohio. 



* The path of glory leade but to the grave." 








I^ the fourth of March. 
1881, James A. Gar- 
field, of Ohio, was in- 
augurated President of the 
^° United States, to which high 
■C'^ office he had been elected by 
the popular vote of his coun- 
trymen. Long a citizen of Mentor, 
Ohio, he had for many years repre- 
sented his district in the halls of 
Congress, and now, taking his 
departure from one of the most 
attractive homes and delightful com- 
munities on the last day of February, 
to assume his duties as chief magis- 
trate of fifty millions of people, he 
thus affectingly addressed himself, 
to his friends and neighbors, — words 
which now are treasured, as a legacy 
most tender and revered, by those 
whose good fortune it was to be 
presen" : — 
" You have come from your homes 



ASSASSINATION OF PEESIDENT GARFIELD. 



709 




-v>^iyArp'>' 'It" i-KK-U'Exi 



— than which no happier are known in ' 
tliis country — from this beautiful lake- 
side, full of all that makes a country life 
happj', to give me 3-our blessing and fare- 
well. You do not know how much I leave 
behind me of friendship and confidence 
and home-like happiness ; but I know I am 
indebted to this whole people for acts of 
kindness, of neighborly friendship, of polit- 
ical trust, of public support, that few men 
have ever enjoyed at the hands of any peo- 
ple. You are a part of this great community 
of northern Ohio which for so many years 
has had no political desire but the good of 



the country, no wish but the promotion of 
liberty and justice, — has had no scheme but 
the building up of all that was worthy and 
true in our republic. If I were to search 
over all the world, I could not find a better 
model of political spirit, df aspirations for 
the true and right, than I have found in 
this community, during the eighteen years 
its people have honored me with their con- 
fidence. I thank the citizens of the county 
for their kindness, and especially my neigh- 
bors of Mentor, who have demanded so 
little of me and have done so much to 
make my home a refuge and a joy. What 



710 



ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT GARFIELD. 



awaits me I cannot now speak of, but I 
sball carry to the discharge of the duties 
that lie before me, to the problems and 
dangers I may meet, a sense of your con- 
fidence and love, which will always be 
answered by my gratitude. Neighbors, 
friends, and constituents, Farewell ! " 

Four days after this cheery yet half 
pathetic adieu, the veteran statesman ;ind 
brave soldier stood with uncovered head, 
in the presence of a vast and brilliant mul- 
titude beneath the dome of the nation's 
capitol, and there, with hand upraised, and 



and there had lately been arranged, in 
connection with this visit to Willjamstown. 
a somewhat extended trip through Ver- 
mont, New Hampshire, and Massachusetts, 
in which he was to be accompanied by 
Mrs. Garfield and two or three of their 
children, several members of the cabinet, 
with their wives, and other particular 
friends. All the arrangements for this 
joj'ous pleasure trip had been carefully 
completed, and every one of the party was 
anticijjating a delightful ten days' jaunt. 
Those who were to start from Washington 




HO.ME OF PRESIDENT GA 



reverently kissing the Uible, took solemn 
oath, as President of the United States, 
to preserve, protect and defend the Consti- 
tution thereof. The cares, harassments 
and contests of this high office, mingled 
with family affliction, thronged in full 
measure upon him, and it was not until 
the burning sun of Jul}' rendered eyish- 
ence fairly uncomfortable that he sougiit 
change and relief. 

For some time past, he had cherished the 
expectation of being present at the com- 
mencement exercises of his alma mater, 
Williams College, in Williamstown, Mass., 



Kl'lELD, MEKTOR, (JUM. 

were to take a special car attached to the 
limited express train for New York, at 
half-past nine o'clock, Saturday morning. 
They were to be joined at New York by 
Mrs. Garfield and two or three others of 
the president's family, who had been so- 
journing at Long Branch, N. J, on account 
of Mrs. Garfield's ill health, from which, 
however, she was happily recovering. The 
president had looked forward to this trip 
with eagerness and delight, and in view of 
it had been in the best of spirits, notwith- 
standing the political infelicities which 
beset him. The night before, he and Sec- 



ASSASSINATION^ OF PEESIDENT GARFIELD. 



711 




MRS. G.iKFIELD. 



retary Blaine had been engaged together, 
until a late hour, in conference upon public 
business. The president, nevertheless, 
arose early the next morning, and, after 
finishing up some executive business, break- 
fasted with his son, and gave final direc- 
tions to the private secretary, who was to 
remain at his usual post. 

He took a carriage with Secretary Blaine, 
to drive to the station of the Baltimore 
and Potomac railroad, corner of Sixth and 
B streets, just off Penns3dvania avenue. 
They drove to the B street entrance, which 
admits chiefly to the ladies' room, a pleas- 
ant carpeted apartment, furnished with 
fixed wooden settees, so arranged as to 
leave a broad passage way directly from 
the outer door to the opposite side of 
the room. Two doors open from the 
side of the room opposite the outer door 
into the large waiting room for gentle- 
men, and it was necessary to pass around 



the ends of the benches, either to the 
right or left, to reach one of these doors. 
In the ladies' room there had been ob- 
served a nervous, short, thick-set man, 
restless in his movements, passing back 
and forth, — his conduct striking enough to 
attract the attention of the woman in 
charge. George, the well-known colored 
coachman of the distinguished party, drove 
to the steps, and the door of the coach was 
opened. The president was not in any 
hurry to get out. A porter took the lug. 
gage through the room. The president, 
seeing a depot official near by, asked him 
how much time he had before the train left. 

" You have ten minutes, sir," was the 
replj. 

The president made no haste to leave 
the carriage, but sat talking with Secretary 
Blaine, in the most informal and chatty 
way. They did not expect to see one 
another for some weeks, for it was Mr. 



712 



ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT GARFIELD. 



Blaine's purpose to go to his home in 
Maine, in a day or two, for a prolonged 
stay. The president stepped from the 
carriage, Mr. Blaine after him, and, as he 
stood there, he lifted his hat to a lady ; 
his physical health seemed so robust as to 
cause the lady to speak of it to her husband. 
The president entered the depot, Mr. 
Blaine with him, and was passing along 
the aisle leading from the door to the inner 
or large waiting room. Suddenly there 
was a report, — seemingly like that of one 
of the larger fire-crackers in such common 
use durino; Fourth-of-July week. The 
president himself exhibited no apprehen- 
sion, not even paj'ing the slightest heed 
to the sound, — had he done so, had he 
turned, he might possibly have seen the 
assassin, who stood there, cool and quiet, 
not more than three feet behind him, with 
a revolver pointed at his back. Neither 
did Mr. Blaine manifest any uneasiness, — • 
in fact, though people were moving pro- 
miscuously around, and within arm's reach 
of the assassin, no one seemed to suspect 
that murder was about to be committed. 
Jt was ill an instant. The reports were 
only such a time apart as sufficed for the 
re-cocking of the revolver. At the second 
one, the president stopped, turned, saw the 
assassin standing there with the ready 
revolver, and for an instant he and his 
murderer were face to face. Then the 
president reeled. He fainted not to un- 
consciousness but to weaknesi=, and even 
before he was well caught he fell to the 
floor, striking the bench as he did so. 

Tliere was terror at once. The secretary 
of state seemed instantly to realize what 
had happened and what its consequences 
were. He sliouted for help He called 
"Rockwell, Rockwell, where is Rockwell ? " 
Then he turned, and seemed to be about to 
make for the assassin, but the latter was 
already in the firm grasp of others. Then 
the secretary of state knelt down beside 
the president, though already tender hands 
had raised and were supporting Mr. Gar- 
field's head. Mrs. Smith, the lady in 
charge of the room, iu au instant was at 



his side ; she had even, iu the brief time 
that was necessary for her to reach him, 
given orders that water be brought at 
once. Kneeling there beside him, she 
raised his head, placed it in her lap, and 
bathed his face. The president uttered 
no sound, and said not a word, but when 
his son Harry, who was to accompany him 
on the trip, came running back from the 
outer platform and saw his father, who 
but a moment ago he had left in such 
splendid health and vigor, and now pros- 
trate, with half closed eyes and bloodless 
brow, he bent down to his father's form, 
and recognition and a whisper followed ; 
the jjresident's e^yes closed again, and his 
son cried piteously. 

It was for the moment impossible to 
say how or where the president had been 
wounded. It was enough to know that 
he had received such a wound as required 
instant medical attendance. The depot was 
at once thronged. People stood around 
him, standing tiptoe behind each other, so 
that not only the president, but his attend- 
ants, suffered greatly for the lack of air. 
The building was cleared, and a mattress 
was brought. The president was tenderlj' 
lifted and placed upon it, still uttering no 
sound, and was borne to the superintend- 
ent's room. Secretaries Windom, James, 
and Lin oln wore by the president's side 
immediately after the shooting. The for- 
mer, bending gently over the president, 
inquired of him where he was wounded. 
The president's first thought seems to 
have been of his wife, saying — 

" Go and telegraph my wife that I am 
hurt, and ask her, if she feels able, to come 
on to Washington at once." 

The secretary of war, to whom a scene 
like this was the second in his experi- 
ence, — the first being that of his own 
fatlier, President Lincoln, — gave hurried 
directions for the calling out of the mili- 
tary, and also for the procuring of medica? 
attendance. It was at his orders that the 
galloping horsemen and the flj'ing coach- 
men came with such furious pace down 
] the avenue. They sjseedily returned with 



ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT GARFIELD. 



713 



a pliysicirm, Dr. Bliss, others also arriving 
almost simultaneously. At the first glanci', 
Dr. Bliss said, " This is an ugly wound," 
and Dr. Townsend in a few whispered 
words, expressed his view of the case to 
Dr. Bliss. 

It was deemed altogether desirable that 
the wounded man should be taken to his 
own house, and an ambulance was speed- 
ily brought to the door, and, as soon as 
the smooth pavement of the avenue was 
reached, the horses were put to the run, 
and within an hour of the shooting the 
president was lying on his own bed, in an 
upper I hamber of the executive mansion. 
He complained of pain in his feet more 
than in his arm or body, and at his own re- 
quest his feet were undressed and rubbed. 
The doctors cut awaj' Iiis clothing to get 
at his wound ; but, though the doctor 
probed the wound with his finger, he could 
not make out with any certainty what 
direction the ball had taken, nor where it 
was lodged. He vomited profuselj', which 
was taken as a sign that he was wounded 
in a mortal part. 

Meantime, the assassin, who had been 
promptly secured before he could leave 
the station, was rapidly driven to police 
headquarters, and when it became doubt- 
ful, as it almost immediately did, whether 
he could be protected from the vengeance 
of the frenzied populace, he was placed in 
a carriage and driven to the jail, in the 
extreme easterly portion of the city. He 
proved to be Charles J. Guiteau, a shiftless 
fellow of middle age, sometimes living in 
one place and sometimes another, obtain- 
ing an uncertain support by assuming 
now to be a law3'er, and again lecturer, 
author, politician, and who had sought to 
obtain office under government, but un- 
successfully, — a man shunned by all who 
knew him well, for his various imposi- 
tions and general worthlessness. He sim- 
ply turned, after he saw the president fall, 
and, evidently expecting arrest, uncon- 
cernedly delivered up his pistol. From 
his pocket-book was taken the following 
letter, dated Jul^' 2 : 



" To THE White House : — 

The President's tragic death was a sad 
necessity, but it will unite the republican 
party and save the republic. Life is a 
flimsy dream, and it matters little when 
one goes A human life is of small value. 
During the war thousands of brave boys 
went down without a tear. I presume 
that the President was a Christian, and 
that he will be happier in Paradise than 
here. It will be no worse for Mrs. Gar- 
Held, dear soul, to part with her husband 
in this way than by natural death. He is 
liable to go at any time, any way. I had 
no ill will towards the President. His 
death was a political necessity. I am a 
lawyer, a theologian, and a politician ; I 
am a stalwart of the stalwarts ; I was with 
General Grant and the rest of our men in 
New York during the canvass. I have 

some papers for the press, which I ; jl! 

leave with Byron Andrews and his co- 
journalists at 1402 New York avenue, 
where all the reporters can see them. I 
am going to jail." The wretch exulted in 
his act, and, on some one asking another, 
in his hearing, " "What did the president 
do when the shot was fired," Guiteau said, 
" I'll show you," and, throwing up his 
right elbow and his hand hanging, re- 
marked, " That's the way he did, when 
the shot got him — he sort of turned aid 
looked scared." He would inquire of his 
keepers, as to the president's condition ; 
when the answer was " better," he would 
look despondent, but, if told his victim 
was worse, he would smile. 

And who was the vl.tim of this viper 
in human form, at whose ghastly deed the 
whole civilized world stood horrified and 
shocked, — the remotest courts and govern- 
ments pouring in their condolences, — and 
all party differences hushed and oblivi- 
ated ? 

He may be well called a representative 
product of our country — its institutions 
and opportunities. Born in Orange, Cuy- 
ahoga County, 0., in 1831, his father died 
when James was about two years old, and 
his boyhood and early manhood presented 



114 



ASSASSINATION 0¥ PRESIDENT GARFIELD. 




MRS. ELIZA II. 



;.\ltFIELD. 



a tough, hand to hand struggle with pov- 
erty, as he fought for an education, aiding 
meanwhile, his " saintly mother," as he 
was accustomed to call her, and for whom 
his love seemed boundless. Like Lincoln, 
he was in his boyhood employed as a canal 
driver and wood chopper. But the in- 
stinct for an education was strong with 
him, and an attack of ague having inter- 
rupted the flow of his canal life, he de- 
cided to go to a school called Geauga 
Academy, in an adjoining county. Start- 
ing with but seventeen dollars in money, 
he worked his own way through the insti- 
tution at Hiram, Portage County, Ohio, 
and at the age of twentj'-three entered the 
junior class of Williams College, Mass., 
and graduated in 1S56, with scholastic 
honors. After this, he was called to teach 
Latin and Greek at the Hiram institution, 



and one year later was made president of 
the same. While officiating there, Mr. 
Garfield married Miss Lucretia Rudolph, 
herself a teacher, and daughter of a worthy 
citizen in the neighborhood. In 1869, 
Mr. Garfield was elected to the state sen- 
ate ; but when the war broke out, he was 
appointed Colonel of the Forty-second Ohio 
regiment, and went to the front in eastern 
Kentucky. His army record, including 
the defeat of Humphrey Marshall's forces, 
participation in the reduction of Pittsburg 
Landing, at the siege of Corinth, in the 
operations along the Memphis and Charles- 
ton railroad, and as chief of staff of the 
Army of the Cumberland, was a heroic 
one — rapidly raising him to the rank of 
Major General, to which he was promoted 
for gallantry at Chickamauga. In 1862, 
he was nominated to congress, and ac- 



ASSASSINATION OF PEESIDENT GARFIELD. 



715 



cepted because he supposed, in common 
with many others, that the war would be 
substantially over by the time he would be 
called to take his seat. His congressional 
record is one of great force and ability, 
and includes the chairmanship of the house 
committee on military affairs, and of the 
appropriation committee, and, later, he be- 
came the acknowledged leader of his party 
in the house. At the close of Mr. Thur- 
nian's term as senator from Ohio, Mr. Gar- 
field was chosen to succeed him. Before 
the time arrived, however, for him to take 
his seat in that august body, the presiden- 
tial nominating convention assembled in 
Chicago, resulting in the selection, after 
many ballotings, of James Abram Gar- 
field, and to this office — the highest elec- 
tive position in the world — he was chosen 
by bis countrymen, in November, 1880. 

In person, Mr. Garfield stood six feet 
high, was broad shouldered and squarely 
built, and had an unusually large head, 
three-fourths of which seemed to be fore- 
head ; his hair and beard were light brown, 
large light blue eyes, a prominent nose, and 
full cheeks. He dressed plainly, wore a 
broad-brim slouch hat and stout boots, 
cared little for luxurious living, was sober 
though not abstinent in all things, and was 
devoted to his wife, children and home. 
He was a religious man as well as youth, 
having early connected himself with the 
body known as the Disciples of Christ, 
so numerous in the middle and western 
States, but having only one place of wor- 
ship in Washington, — the humble build- 
ing on Vermont Avenue, — where Mr. Gar- 
field attended. 

Soon as possible, by means of telegraph, 
the president's message to his wife reached 
her at Elberon, Long Branch, where she 
was stopping. Her grief was past expres- 
sion. A second dispatch, saj'ing that her 
husband would recover, dispelled her fears 
somewhat, and she soon after started with 
her family, on a special train. Though 
weak from her recent illness and the shock 
of the assassination, Mrs. Garfield showed 
wonderful courage and self-control, after 



her arrival in Washington. She took her 
place at her husband's bedside, encourag- 
ing him with her presence and sympathy, 
and g ving all the aid she could to the 
attending physicians and nurses, continu- 
ing this devotednesi — even when others' 
hopes and strength failed, to the end of 
the sad, sad struggle. 

To the venerable mother of the presi- 
dent, the fearful tidings gave a great 
shock. " We have heard that James is 
hurt," said her daughter, Mrs. Larabee. 
" How ; by the cars ? " asked the mother. 
" No, he was shot by an assassin, but he 
was not killed." " The Lord help me ! " 
exclaimed Mrs. Garfield. She afterwards 
dictated a dispatch to the family at Wash- 
ington, saying : " The news was broken 
to me this morning and shocked me very 
much. Since receiving your telegram, I 
feel much more hopeful. Tell James that 
I hear he's cheerful, and I am glad of it. 
Tell him to keep in good spirits, and ac- 
cept the love and sj'mpathy of mother, 
sisters, and friends. — Eliza Garfield." 
Bended with years and sorrow, the tender 
est sympathy was universally felt for the 
venerable and afflicted woman. 

And now around the bedside of the suf- 
fering president clustered the watchful 
and anxious sympathies of fifty millions 
of people — aye, and of all the nations of 
the world. The fate of the president de- 
pended on one distressing wound, the ball 
having entered his body at the back, on 
the right, in the neighborhood of the elev- 
enth rib, and necessarily involving in its 
course the vital parts. Eminent physi- 
cians, — Drs. Bliss, Barnes, Woodward, Rey- 
burn, Agnew and Hamilton — had charge of 
the case, and bulletins were issued several 
times daily. The president's mind contin- 
ued clear, and he early informed Dr. Bliss 
that he desired to be kept accurately 
informed about his condition. " Conceal 
nothing from me, doctor," said he, "for 
you know I am not afraid to die." In the 
course of the day, when the indications 
pointed to his dissolution, the president 
asked what the prospects were. He said, 



716 



ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT GARFIELD. 



" Are they Lad, doctor ; don't be afraid to 
tell me frankly. I am ready for the 
worst." " Mr. President," replied Dr. 
Bliss, " your condition is extremely crit- 
ical. I do not think you can live many 
hours." '' God's will be done, doctor, I 
am ready to go, if my time has come," 
was the firm resjsonse. About the time 
he began to rally, he said, "Doctor, what 
are now the indications ? " Dr. Bliss said, 
'' There is a chance of recovery." " Well, 
then," replied the president cheerfully, 



seemed favorable, this joy and hope were 
changed to sadness, at the relapses that 
followed. The malarial influences pertain- 
ing 10 the situation of the White House, 
in the hot summer season, were considered 
a most serious drawback, and this, in con- 
nection with various alarming symptoms 
that continued to develop themselves, to- 
gether with the president's urgent desire 
for a change of air and location, led to the 
plan of removing him to Long Branch, 
N. J. Offers were at once made by the 




IJE. FRANK H. HAMILTON. 



DK. D. W. ULISS. 



" we will take that chance." In a similar 
strain of calmness, resignation, and often- 
times of pleasautrj', did he converse with 
his other physicians, also with his faithful 
nurse, Mrs. Edson, and with his warmly 
attached personal friends, Messrs. Swaim 
and Rockwell. 

All that human love and skill could do 
was done, for manj' weeks, to relieve, com- 
fort, and restore the distinguished patient ; 
but, as often as the great public heart was 
made to swell with joy, when the prospect 



owners of residences at that beautiful and 
healthy sea-shore resort, of the free use of 
their houses, and that of Mr. Francklyn, 
an English gentleman of wealth and public 
spirit, was finally accepted. 

The removal was made on the sixth of 
September, by a special train. The jour- 
ney was accomplished without the slight- 
est trouble, so ample and perfect were the 
arrangements for the purpose. The appli- 
ances were so complete, that all trouble 
from the jarring of the train or rattle of 



ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT GARFIELD. 



717 



passing the bridges was avoided. The 
heat was the worst element. No trains 
were in motion at the time of the passing 
of the Nation's Special. There was uni- 
versal turning out at all stations, great 
and small ; doors of farm houses were 
crowded ; and workmen in fields and from 
factories, along the whole line, stood watch- 
ing for the train, and reverently uncovered 
as it passed. The speed was great, and 
the president constantly urged greater,— he 
rode so easily, and felt so strongly the im- 
portance of saving time, and thus husband- 
ing his little strength. At Trenton, 
where it was decided to dress the wound, 
he said, " Gentlemen, progress seems more 
important to me," so it was allowed to go 



behalf, that when Mr. Warren Young 
passed along the room with some mail 
matter, the president seeing him held out 
his hand, remarking, " Warren, don't you 
think I look better to day ? " To which 
Mr. Young responded in the affirmative ; 
and, continuing, the president added with 
emphasis, " and I feel better — this is good 
air." 

The fluctuations of gain and loss, how- 
ever, which had characterized the case 
from the beginning, still continued, not- 
withstanding the buoj-ancy of spirits ex- 
hibited alike b^' the physicians, the pub- 
lic, and the patient himself. He had even 
been allowed to leave his bed for a reclin- 
ing chair, from which he might have a 




FR.INCKLYN COTTAGE, ELBEKOX, >". .1. 



until he arrived. Two miles were run. by 
close count, by several watches, in fifty- 
five seconds, and the average run, includ- 
ing stops, was over fifty-five miles an hour. 
At the time of arrival the heat was in- 
tense — intense throughout the country, — 
but when this passed, and the fresh sea 
breeze set in, the president enjoyed it to 
the utmost, and the benefit to his health 
Feemed so encouraging that the bulletins 
were diminished in frequency, the mem- 
bers of the cabinet went off in pursuit of 
recreation, and the governors of the sev- 
eral States united in recommending a day 
of solemn prayer to God for his continued 
improvement and complete recovery. So 
marked was the apparent change in his 



window view of the ocean ; the chair was 
inclined at an angle of a little more than 
twenty degrees, and the president lny upon 
it with his head slightly more elevated 
than it was upon the bed. The change 
was so refreshing that he asked to have it 
repeated the following day, which was 
done. On being placed in the chair and 
wheeled over to the window, where he 
could look out upon the ocean, he ex- 
claimed, " This is good. I like this. I 
think I ought to have been taken here 
three weeks ago." The remarkable com- 
plications of the case continued, however, 
to assert themselves, none of these being 
more discouraging, perhaps, than the later 
rigors and fevers, with the accompanying 



718 



ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT GARFIELD. 




extreme exhaustion and incapacity for 
food. It was thought, however, that 
these troubles might be overcome, and no 
alarm or anxiety was excited beyond what 
the case had oftentimes created from the 
first. Things thus continued until the 
nineteenth of September, — the night, as it 
happened, when his old companion in arms, 
General Snaim, was to watch with Iiim. 
He had been with the sufferer a good deal 
of the time from three o'clock in the after- 
noon. A few minutes before ten o'clock 
in the evening, he left Col. Rockwell, with 
whom he had been talking for some min- 



utes in the lower hall, and joroceeded up- 
stairs to the president's room. On enter- 
ing, Gen. Swaim found Mrs. Garfield 
sitting by the bedside. There were no 
other persons in the room. He said to 
her, " How is everything going ? "' She 
replied, " He is sleeping nicely." He 
then said, " I think you would better go 
to bed and rest," and asked her what had 
been prescribed for him to take during the 
night. She replied that she did not know : 
that she had given him milk jjunch at 
eight o'clock. The general then said, 
" If you will wait a moment, I will go 



ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT GARFIELD. 



719 



into the doctor's room, and see what is to 
be given during the night." 

" There is," Mrs. Garfield replied, " beef 
tea clown stairs. Daniel knows where to 
get it." 

"I then Went," — General Swaim relates, 
— "into the doctor's room. I found Dr. 
Bliss there, and asked him what was to be 
given during the night. He answered, 'I 
think I would better fix up a list, and will 
bring it in to you pretty soon.' I then 
went back into the sick room, and had 
some little conversation with Mrs. Garfield. 
She felt the president's hand, and laid her 
hand on his forehead, saying, ' He seems 
to be in good condition,' and passed out 
of the room. I immediately felt his hands, 
feet and knees. I thought that his knees 
seemed somewhat cohl, and got a flannel 
cloth, heated it at the fire, and laid it over 
liis limbs. I also heated another cloth, and 
laid it over his right hand, and then sat 
down in a chair beside his bed. I was 
scarcely seated, when Dr. Boynton came in 
and felt the president's pulse. I asked 
him how it seemed to him. ' It is not as 
strong as it was this afternoon, but very 
good.' I said, ' He seems to be doing 
well.' ' Yes,' he answered, and passed 
out. He was not in the room more than 
two minutes. Shortly after this, the pres- 
ident awoke. As he turned his head on 
awaking, I rose, and took hold of his 
hand. I was on the left hand side of the 
bed, as he lay. I remarked, ' You have 
had a very comfortable sleep.' He said, 
'Oh, Swaim; this terrible pain,^ placing 
his right hand on his breast, over the region 
of the heart. I asked him if I could do 
anything for him. He said, ' Some water.' i 
[ went to the other side of the room, and 
poured out about an ounce and a half of 
Poland water into a glass, and gave him to 
drink ; he took the glass in his hand, I 
raising his head as usual, and he drank the 
water very naturally. I then handed the 
glass to the colored man, Daniel, who 
came in during the time I was getting the 
water. Afterward I took a napkin, and 
wiped his forehead, as he usuallj' perspired 
on awaking. He then said, ' Oh, Swaim, 



this terrible pain ! Press your hand on 
it.' I laid my hand on his chest. He 
then threw both hands up to the side and 
about on a line with his head, and ex- 
claimed, ' Oh, Swaim, can't you stop this ?' 
and again, ' Oh, Swaim ! ' " 

It was at this stage, says General Swaim, 
that the president looked at him with a 
staring expression. "I asked him if he 
was suffering much pain. Receiving no 
answer, I repeated the question, with like 
result. I then concluded that he was 
either d^'ing, or was having a severe spasm, 
and called to Daniel, who was at the door, 
to tell Dr. Bliss and Mrs. Garfield to come 
in immediatelj', and glanced at the small 
clock hanging on the chandelier nearly 
over the foot of his bed, and saw that it 
was ten minutes after ten o'clock. Dr. 
Bliss came in within two or three minutes. 
I told Daniel to bring the light — a 
lighted candle behind a screen near the 
door. When the light shone full on his 
face, I saw that he was dj'ing. When Dr, 
Bliss came in a moment after, I said, 'Doc- 
tor, have you any stimulant — he seems to 
be dying.' He took hold of his wrist, as 
if feeling for the pulse, and said, 'Tes, he 
is dying! ' I then said to Daniel, * Run, 
and arouse the house.' At that moment. 
Colonel Rockwell came in, when Dr. Bliss 
said, ' Let us rub his limbs,' which we 
did. 

In a very few moments, Mrs. Garfield 
came in, and said, ' What does this mean ? ' 
and a moment after exclaimed, ' Oh, why 
am I made to suffer this cruel wrong ! ' At 
half-past ten, in the evening, he breathed 
liis last, calmly and peacefully." 

At the final moment, the following per- 
sons were present: Mrs. Garfield and 
her daughter Moilie, Drs. Bliss, Agnew, 
and Boynton, General Swaim, Colonel and 
Mrs. Rockwell, J. Stanley Brown, C. 0. 
Rockwell, and Daniel Spriggs. Dr. Bliss 
acknowledged that the president's death 
was a complete surprise to him. Before leav- 
ing his patient, to write out the directions 
of the night, for the watchers, the doctor 
inquired of the president how he felt, and 
the reply was in his usual cheerful tone, 



ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT GAEFIELD. 



721 



" Pretty welir On reaching the room, 
after Genenil Swaim's summons, Dr. Bliss 
found the president unconscious ; he placed 
his ear o^er ihe region of the heart and 
could only detect a faint flutter, — pulse he 
had none. Some hj-podermic injections of 
brandy were given in the region of the 
heart, but without effect. He was lying 
■ 111 his back, with his head thrown back- 
wards, and there was not a tremor or move- 
ment of the body. 

The effort with which Mrs. Garfield 
controlled her feelings was seen in the 
fixed lines of the face, as she arose and 
went from the room. At the door of her 
chamber, she broke quite down for the 
first time ; she sobbed aloud, and in her 
first burst of grief shut herself alone in 
her chamber. She remained thus alone, 
for perhaps three minutes, and what new 
strength she got in brief communion with 
God, was seen in her brave and resolute 
face, as she came back to the bed where 
her dead husband lay. The doctors, with 
womanly gentleness, had closed the eye- 
lids and composed the limbs. Mrs. Gar- 
field sat down by the bed. There she re- 
mained several hours. 

The tidings of the president's death fell 
like a pall on the land, and, in sympathy 
and grief, the whole world was kin. Rulers 
and governments from the farthermost 
parts of the earth made haste to send 
messages of profoundest sorrow. A sam- 
ple of this tender friendship, as it flowed 
in upon the stricken republic from distant 
realms, was the following from Queen 
Victoria : " Would you express my sincere 
condolence to the late president's mother 
and inquire after her health, as well as af- 
ter Mrs. Garfield's. I should be thankful if 
you would procure me a good photograph 
of General Garfield." The bells of the 
English cathedrals were tolled, the Eng- 
lish court went into mourning, and the 
Queen directed that a floral wreath be pre- 
pared as an offering from her own hands 
for the funeral bier. Throughout our own 
country, business was suspended ; the courts 
adjourned ; the theaters were closed ; the 

public buildings, the dwellings and stores 
46 



were draped in mourning ; the bells were 
tolled ; flags hung at half-mast ; — lamenta- 
tion and woe were on every hand. 

Oq Wednesday following, the remains, 
of which a careful autopsy had been made, 
revealing the fact that " surgery has no 
resources by which the fatal result could 
have been averted," were borne out from 
Francklyn cottage, to begin its last solemn 
journey. Adorned by a single cross of 
flowers, the casket was placed in the car 
prepared for its reception, and, surrounded 
by a military and naval guard, and accom- 
panied by the bereaved family and attend- 
ing friends, the train departed for Wash- 
ington and Cleveland. The entire route 
was lined, as it were, by mourners raising 
their hats and maintaining an awed silence. 
At Ocean Grove, thousands of people 
watched it pass, the bells tolling solemnly 
meanwhile ; at Monmouth Junction, a 
delegation of students from Princeton 
College met the train, and, on its reach- 
ing Princeton Junction, five hundred of 
the young men stood in files on the sides 
of the track, which had been strewn 
with flowers ; at Wilmington, Del., as 
many as ten thousand paid their tribute 
of silent respect ; and so on, from point to 
point. 

At Washington four entire days were 
devoted to grief and funeral rites. Na- 
tional homage and ceremonial appeared to 
center here. The great point of interest 
was the Rotunda of the capitol, where the 
body lay in state. In the center was placed 
the catafalque, about three feet above the 
flo»r. It is the same one that held the 
casket encasing the remains of Abraham 
Lincoln. Its lower platform was covered 
with perfectly black Brussels carpet, and 
the trimmings were of heavy black corded 
silk, silk fringe and tassels, silver moldings, 
etc. Of the floral decorations of the cata- 
falque, most noticeable was a broken column 
of Marshal Neil white roses, about three 
feet high, surmounted by a white dove 
with wings outspread ; next came a beaute- 
ous design, representing the Gates Ajar, 
the columns being of similar white roses, 
the bars of the gate of variegated white 



722 



ASSASSINATION OF PKESIDENT GARFIELD. 




UODV LYING IX STATK IX THE CAPITOL ItOTrXDA. 

ana green, and tlie gate posts surmounted 
by globus of immortelles. Next to this 
was a crown of white ro-e-buds, the points 
being tipped with fern. Be3-ond this was 
a bank of white flowers, from which sprang 
a column, and on tliis penhed a white 
(love; the words, "Our martvred Presi- 
dent," appeared in green, upon the white 
bank. At each end of the floral display 
was a wreath of ivy leaves lying on the 
floor. But conspicuous above all, was the 
massive and magnificent wreath, composed 
of white roses, smilax and stephanotis, — 
the most beautiful ever seen in Washing- 



ton, — from the queen of England The 
interior of the rotunda was hung in black, 
and both rotunda and dome were lustrously 
illuminated. Tens of thousands thronged 
the capitol, day and night, to view the face 
of the beloved president. This was only 
interrupted by the announcement of Mrs. 
Garfield's coming to take her final look 
of the precious countenance. All sounds 
were instantly hushed, every one withdrew, 
and then the stricken widow — her slight 
form wrapped in deepest mourning, and 
leaving her attendants at the door — ad- 
vanced alone to take her last and tearful 
farewell look ; and here, in the solitude 
and sacredness of her grief, she remained 
some fifteen minutes. 

Simple, like the religious services before 
the departure from Elberon, and in keeping 
with the Christian simplicity of character 
which always distinguished Mr. Garfield, 
were the funeral exercises in the capitol. 
Rev Mr. Power, the late president's pastor, 
officiated. The Philharmonic Society of 



ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT GARFIELD. 



723 



Washington rendered some impressive 
selections, including the anthem, " To 
Thee, Lord, I yield my Spirit ;'' prayer 
and eulogy followed ; and the remains 
were then conducted to the hearse. An 
immense funeral escort, of surpassing mag- 
nificence and solemnity, accompanied the 
funeral car to the train which was to 
convey the same and the mourning party 
to Cleveland, — the car containing the 
body being open at the side, so as to 
admit of the casket being seen along the 
journey. 

On Saturdaj' morning the train was met 
at the Ohio state line by the governor and 
other officials, including the city govern- 
ment of Cleveland ; in which city, on 
Mondaj', Sept. 26th, the mortal part of 
the dead president was to be consigned to 
its last resting-place, — a day which was 
also observed, in accordance with appoint- 
ment by President Arthur and by many 
of the governors of the States, as a day of 
humiliation and prayer. The day was 
indeed one of stillness and worship and 
funereal observance from one end of the 
land to the other. Abroad, too, the occa- 
sion was seriously commemorated. In 
London, stores were closed and buildings 
draped ; the fleet of vessels in the Thames 
displayed its flags at half mast ; the royal 
palaces indicated bereavement ; portraits 
of President Garfield hung in black 
abounded ; funeral dirges were played at 
St. James' palace ; devotional services were 
held in Westminster Abbey and other 
churches ; and the tolling of bells was 
universal. In Paris. Berlin, Geneva, Mad- 
rid, Constantinople, Cairo, and even in 
India, there was observance of the day and 
svent of America's woe. 

The city of Cleveland, Ohio, embraces 
the beautiful Lake View Cemetery — a few 
miles from the president's former home — 
in which, in accordance with his expressed 
wish, he was to be buried. Here, a special 
pavilion was constructed for the reception 
of the coffin, forty-four feet square at the 
base, and spanned by arches thirty-six feet 
Irigh and twenty-four feet wide ; the inte- 
rior was beautified with rare plants and I 



flowers. Here rested the catafalque, stand- 
ing with its four open arche.*? and sur- 
moun'ed by its massive golden ball, with a 
cannon resting on each of its four corners, 
heavily draped in black ; large, black flags 
drooped from each side immediately be- 
neath the cornice, and still lower fell the 
national colors, with streamers of crape 
alternating with the bars of red and white ; 
an elegant shield, several feet in length, 
composed of swords, had a con.spicuous 
place on the octagonal faces of the four 
sides, and, half circling the arches, were 
choice ferns upon a white background- 
arranged in triangular shape, also a heavy 
gold lining running around the pillars, the 
interior was draped in plain and appropri- 
ate bands of rich black goods. 

On this memorable Mondaj', the weather 
broke calm and Helightful, and the great 
lake, beside which Cleveland rests, laj' 
placid atjd beautiful. At an early hour the 
whole city was in motion, everybody' mov- 
ing towards the park, where the procession 
was to form and the funeral ceremonies 
take place. Multitudes poured in from 
every section, and by ten o'clock 200,000 
people had gathered around the .square. 
At the time appointed, the dignitaries of 
the governitient, including ever\' depart- 
ment, civil and military, marched upon the 
platform, each wearing a heavy black 
mourning scarf, with black and white 
rosettes upon the breast, the whole com- 
posing the Guard of Honor, headed b^ 
General Sherman. 

In due time, the bereaved family were 
driven to the pavilion. Among the first 
to alight was the venerable mother of the 
martyred chieftain, — the poor, wasted form 
of the dear woman being helped from her 
carriage, and conducted slowly up the in- 
cline that led to the princely bier upon 
which rested the form of her idolized son. 
Unmindful of surrounding objects, and 
with her whole mind engrossed in grief, 
she sat down in silence in the seat provided 
for her ; but her pent-up feelings could not 
be repressed, and she shortly moved ovei 
to the coffin, and, leaning upon it, laid her 
cheek upon the cover, her lips moving in 



724 



ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT GARFIELD. 



silent prayer, and the tears coursing adown 
lier wrinkled and weary-worn face. Others 
wept in sympathy, and she was tenderly 
led back to her seat. 

Scripture reading, prayers, a eulogj- by 
Rev. Dr. Errett, and solemn music, made 
up the funeral ceremonies, one of the 
hymns sung being the president's favorite, 
commencing with the words, " Ho, reapers 
of life's harvest ! " The casket was borne 
on the shoulders of ten United States ar- 
tillerymen from the pavilion to the funeral 
car, and. leaving the park, the grand pro- 
cession passed out Superior street and 
Euclid avenue, to the entrance of the cem- 
etery. The sidewalks were crowded with 
people, and refreshments were freely dis- 
tributed by the citizens to the civil and 
military visitors. When the head of the 
column reached the black arch which 
fronted the cemetery, the ranks were 
opened, and the body of the dead presi- 
dent, borne upon the funeral car, passed 
in between the long ranks of civilians 
and soldiers. Upon the piers 
of the arch were the inscrip- 
tions — "Lay him to sleej) 
whom we have learned to 
love," — " Laj'^ him to sleep 
whom we have learned tn 
trust," — " Come to rest " 



The coffin was wrapped in triple folds 
of fine crape and a huge flag, and those 
specially deputed to walk beside the 
hearse wore white helmets and carried 
drawn swords. Tlie procession was two 




■I 



VIEWIXG THE UEMAINS AT CLEVEL.VXP, OHIO. 



ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT GARFIELD. 



725 



lours in passing a given 



and one-half 
point. 

At the receiving vault there was a cata- 
falque placed in the center, and draped 
flags were hung at each side. At the head 
was suspended a superb wreath sent to 
Mrs. Garfield by the ladies of Dubuque, 
and another sent at the instance of the 
tmperor of Brazil ; the floor was covered 
with sprays of evergreen, upon which were 
strewn flowers in great profusion. Out- 



er two later Harry and James got out. 
Neither Mrs. Garfield nor the president's 
mother left the carriage, but both of thorn 
threw back their veils, and gazed long at 
the sight within the vault. General Swaini, 
Colonel Corbin and Colonel Rockwell, and 
a few others of the close family friends, 
left their seats, and ex-president Hayes. 
Mr. Evarts and Secretaries Blaine and 
Windom, were near the tomb As the 
coffin was placed on the catafalque in the 




KCCEIMNC. VAULT. 



side, a carpet IkuI been laid to the carriage 
way, which was covered with a black can- 
opy ; this carpet was also strewn with 
flowers, while around were scattered im- 
mortelles and other flowers. 

It was about half past three o'clock 
when the funeral car came down to the 
.south of the vault, and was halted just be- 
yond it. Mrs. Garfield's carriage stopped 
just in front of the vault, and a moment 



vault, the marine band played the familiar 
strains of "Nearer, my God, to Thee." 
The closing services were then performed, 
consisting of music by the marine band, 
an address by Rev. Dr. Jones, chaplain of 
the president's old regiment, singing by 
one of the musical societies, and benedic- 
tion by Rev. Dr. Hinsdale. Secretary 
Blaine and the president's sons entered the 
vault. Other prominent persons crowded 



726 



ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT GARFIELD. 




i,\KE vinw ( i:Mi;rEiiV. 



forward to gather the scattered flowers as 
mementos, and before the procession left 
all the flowers beneath the canopy had been 
secured. The family carriages then started 
in return, followed by the other vehicles 
containing the Cabinet and the Guard of 
Honor. 

Of the cemeterj', it may be said that few 
locations of the kind surpass this in im- 
jiressive beauty. The driveway from the 
entrance to the tomb in which Presidi'nt 
Garfield's remains were deposited, until tlie 
erection of the monument, is very broad, 
and, directly opposite the tomb, the main 



avenue leading to the remotest parts of the 
grounds begins, crossing soon a lovely lake, 
on the other side of which the road rises 
gradually to the crest of a ridge quite 
elevated above the lake. From this ridge 
a bald, rounded spur juts out toward the 
lake, on the right. The top of this spur is 
irregular shaped, and flat, with a narrow 
path all around. This is the spot — long 
reserved as the most beautiful in the whole 
grounds — presented by the trustees of the 
cemetery to Mrs. Garfield, as the burial 
place for her husband, and accepted by her 
for tliat purpose. 




WREATH I'KESEXTED DV QL'EES VICTORIA. 



INDEX. 



A. 

AcriDEXTAL discovery of gold in California, 364. 
-of the microphone by Edison, 087. 

ACCOMPLICES of John Wilkes Booth, the assjissin of 
Pres. Lincoln, the trials and fates of the, 627. 

Achievements of Admiral Farragut, 5Hy. 

Acknowledgment of the independence of the United 
States by foreign powers, 31. 

Adams, John, speech of, upon the declaration of inde- 
pendence, 2G. 

— his nomination of Washington as commander, G4. 

— appointment of, first minister to England, 70. 

— audience with George 111, his account of his, 74. 

— his eloquent presentation of the American cause, 75. 

— result of the embassy to England of, 75. 

— John Quiucy, his struggle for the right of petition 
in congress, 252. 

— — his death in the national capital, 262. 
Admiral Farraout's achievements at New Orleans 

in 1HG2, 590. 

his gallant action in IMobile bay, 592. 

Adoption of the federal constitution by the states, S3. 
ADVENT, Second, the excitement of lf<4S, as to the, 307. 
Adventures of Fremont in the Kocky Mountains, 280. 
Advocacy of the Union cause in England, Henry 

Ward Beecher's, 573. 
After the battle of Antietam, appalling sights, 540. 

— the earthquake, scene, 150. 
Agricultural Hall, at the centennial exhibition, 695. 
Alabama, the combat of tlie, with the Kearsarge, 5S1. 
Alarm, caused by the total solar eclipse, 135. 

by the mysterious dark day of 1780, 40. 

Alexander, Czar of Kussia, the centennial gratula- 

tions of, 705. 
Albert Edward, Prince of Wales, tour in the United 

States of, 493. 
Along the Jordan, wild and impressive scenery, 356. 
Ambassador, John Adams, the tirst from the United 

States to England, 70. 
Ambassadors, the Japanese, 491. 
Amendment, fifteenth constitutional, ratification of, 

by the states, 552. 
Amkrica, matched with England on Lake Erie. 163. 

— the yacht, the international race won by. 403. 

— first embassy from the Orient to a foreign power 
Sent to, 485. 

— the bloodiest day in the history of, 535. 

— free popular education, the progress of in, 667. 
American defenses at New Orleans, 171. 

— forces, junction of the, with the French at York- 
town, 56. 

— independence, declaration of, 25. 
Amitv, between England and America, 70. 
Anderson, Gen., his defense of Fort Sumter. 501. 

— restoration of the U, S., flag to Fort Sumter by, 615. 

— John, Major Andre*s capture under the name of, 49. 
Andre, IVIajor, the British spy, manner and incidents 

of the capture of. 49. 50. 
Ills Intrigue with Beneilict Arnold, 49. 



Anecdotes, relating to the selection of the location of 

the national capital, 114. 
Annapolis, Washington's resignation of his commis. 

sion to congress at, 08. 
Anniversary of the birth of the republic, celebration 

of the one hundredth, 6S0. 
Antietam, the battle of, 535. 
Apostles. Mormon, their proselyting in Europe, 21&. 

— of Temperance, the famous, 277. 
Apostrophk, Webster's eloquent, to the Union, 211. 
Appalling catastrophe, on hoard the Princeton. 315. 
Appeal for life, to Gibbs, the pirate, by a girl, 222. 
Appearance of the great comet of 1843, 3Uo. 

— of Jenny Liud at Castle Garden, 392. 
Application of Lafayette to enter the American 

army, 188. 

Appomatox, the momentous occurrence at, 612. 

April 14, 1865, the bereavement of the nation on, 617. 

Archbishop McCloskey, consecration of, as the first 
American cardinal. 675. 

Ari hives, the removal of the national, to Washing- 
ton, 116. 

Arctic, the Collins steamer, loss of the, at sea by col 
lision at noonday with the Vesta, 429. 

Army. Washington assuming command of the, 64. 

— the farewell address of Washington to the. 07. 
Arnold, Benedict, early career and character of, 48, 

account of the treason of, 4B. 

plot of, to deliver West Point to the British, 49. 

frustration of the plot of, 50. 

escape from arrest of, 52. 

reward and punishment of, 54. 

Arrest, of Aaron Burr, dramatic scene at the, 147. 

— Prof. Webster's, for murder of Dr. Parkinan, 378. 

— of Booth, the assassin of President Lincoln, 625. 
Arrival, of Lafayette in New York, scene at the, 191. 

— of Kossuth in New York, scene at the, 416. 

— of the Great Eastern with the Atlantic cable, 635. 
Artificial light, wonderful revolution in, 484. 
AsHMUN. Hon. George, of Springfield, Mass., last inter- 
view of Lincoln with, 618. 

Asiatic cholera, its visitations upon America. 309. 
Assassination, attempted, of President Jackson. 236. 

of President Lincoln, by John Wilkes Booth. 617. 

scene in Ford's Theater at the. 620. 

Assault upon Hon. Chas. Sumner in the U. S. Senate 
chamber by Preston S. Brooks, 437. 

scene at the, 443. 

Astonishing feats of horse taming by Prof. Rarey.509. 
ASSUMING command of the army, Washington, at Cam- 
bridge, 65. 

at Vicksburg. Gen. Grant. 555 

Atlanta. Ga., Gen. Sherman at. 599. 
Atlantic telegraphic cable, the several attempts and 
failures in laying the. 030. 

the successful laying of the. 632. 

the first message transmitted through the. 634. 

Atmospherical phenomena, during the "dark day" 

of 1780. 42. 
Attempted assa-ssination of President Jackson. 238. 



728 



INDEX. 



Atzerodt, the trial and execution of. 627. 
Ai^ROKA Borealis, tlie inaguiticent, of l^;.^7, 2G9. 

its remarkable extent and duration, 2"0. 

appearance of, 271-274. 

, accounts of, from different points, 272. 

Autographic letter, of the Emperor of Germany to 

President Grant, 704. 
Avenues of the national capital, Washington's plan 

of the, IIG. 
AWAKEMXG.thegreatreligious, of 1857,456. 
Awful explosion, onboard the Princeton, 315. 

— visitations, of the cholera and yellow fever, 3G0. 

'* Awful '* Gardiner, the prize-fighter's conversion, 463. 

B. 

Balls, the great, to Prince Albert at New York and 
Boston, 498. 41»;>. 

" Banner Town," for furnishing soldiers in the revo- 
lution, 190. 

Barclay, Commodore, in the battle of Lake Erie, 168. 

Barnum, p. T., his success with Jenny Lind, 390. 

— Jenny Lind's first interview with, 391. 

" Baron Renfrew," tour of, in the United States, 493. 
Barricaiunc. the streets against the cholera, 368. 
Battle, on Lake Erie, Commodore Perry's famous, 167. 

— on the Thames, against the British and Indians, 170. 

— at New Orleans. Gen Jackson's famous, 176. 

— of the Forts, 501. 

— of Bull Run, the first, 523. 

— of Antietam, the bloody and decisive, 539. 

— of Gettysburg the three davs. 567. 
Battles, the greatest in the Indian wars, 90. 

— in Mexico. 346-353. 

— of the civil war, 523, 539, 5o7. 

— naval, 32, 38, 163, 526, 581. 

Beauregard, Gen., his demand for the surrenderor 

Fort Sumter, 504. 
Beauty of nature, after the " dark day " of 1780, 47. 

— of the site of the national capital, 116, 
Beecher, Henry "Ward, the oratorical championship 

of the Union cause in England by, 573. 

defending the American Union at Exeter Hall, 

London, 575. 

church of, in Brooklyn, 579. 

Beginning of the wonderful aurora borealis, 270. 
Bell, Prof. A. G., his invention of the telephone, G84. 
Benton. Thomas H., the interview of, with Henry 
Clay before the duel, 197. 

— the famous expunging resolution of, in U. S. Sen- 
ate, 263. 

— contest of, with Webster, Calhoun and Clay. 267. 
Berlin, celebration of the American centennial in, 704. 
Bible, used at inauguration of Washington, 90. 
Biblical plates of the Mormons, history of the, 216. 
Birds, singular actions of, during the great eclipse, 136. 
Birth of the new republic, in 1776, 25. 

centennial commemoration of the, in 1876, 689. 

BiRTn-PLA.cE of Lafayette, 193. 
" Black Hawk," the Indian chief, the war with, 92. 
Blennerhassett, Harman, his complicity in the plot 
of Aaron Burr. 142. 

— the early life and romantic histnry of, 143. 

— the wife of, her brave defense of her husband, 144. 

— the flight and escape of, 145. 

— the unhappy fate of. 148. 
Bloodshed in the senate chamber. 4.'^. 
Bloodiest day of the civil war, 535. 
BLOfiDLEss duel between Clay and Randolph, 196. 
Boggs, Capt.. his naval achievements, 590. 
Bombardment of Fori Sumter, 501. 

— ot Vicksburg, 554. 

Bona r arte, Napoleon, his tribute to Washington, 125. 



Booth, John Wilkes, assassination of President Lin- 
coln by, 620. 

— dramatic flight and arrest of, 625. 

— tragic death of, 626. 

— his dying message to his mother, 627. 

— trials and fates of the accomplices of, 627. 
Boring, for petroleum, the first, 479. 
Boston Corbett, Sergeant, G24. 

Bradford, David, the leader of the whiskey insurrec- 
tionists in Pennsylvania, 107. 
Brazil, the Emperor of, at the centennial, 690. 
Breaking and taming of wild horses, by Karey, 509. 

— out of the temperance reformation of 1840, 276. 

— up of Burr's expedition, 14G. 

Bridal chamber, the Asiatic cholera in the, 373. 

Brilliant musical tour of Jenny Lind, 386. 

Broadway, N.Y., the grand Kossuth procession in. 416. 

Brooks, Preston S., his assault upon Senator Sum- 
ner, 437. 

Brute creation, elFect of the solar eclipse on the, 136. 

Buchanan, President, reception of the Japanese em- 
bassy by, 487. 

— correspondence between Queen Victoria and, 494. 

— reception of Albert Edward, Prince of Wales by, 496. 

— Commodore, in command of the Merrimac, 526. 
Buildings of the centennial exhibition of 1876, 694. 
Bull Run, the first battle of, 517. 

— the opposing armies before, 518. 

— the conflict and panic at, 521. 

— the losses of the contending armies at, 525. 

— coincidences, remarkable, of the last battle of the 
war with, 613. 

Bunker Hill, oration of Daniel Webster at the laying 
of the comer stone of the monument at, 192. 

visit of Lafayette to, 192. 

BURNSIDE, Gen., gallantry of, at Antietam, 538. 

— "the holding of the hill" at Antietam by, Geo. 
W, Smalley's account of, 538, 539. 

Burning of one of the great oil wells, 482. 

— of the city of Chicago in 1871, 655. 
Burial of George Washington, 123. 

— of Abraham Lincoln, 624. 

— place of Lincoln, 626. 

Burr, Aaron, account of the early life of, 127. 

— his bravery and ardor in the revolution. 128. 

— his dismissal by Washington, for debauchery, 128. 

— his career as a lawyer, 128. 

— his election to the United States Senate, 129. 

— his candidacy for the presidency, 129. 

— his quarrel and fatal duel with Hamilton, 130. 

— his conspiracy to establish an American empire, 143. 

— and his deluded followers, 146. 

— his trial for treason and acquittal, 147. 

— Theodosia. the daughter of, her devotion to, 148. 

— his death, 150. 

Bursting of the monster gun, "Peacemaker," on 

board the Princeton. 315. 
Burying the dead at Antietam, 636. 



Cabinet, the discussion in Pres. Lincoln's, upon the 
emancipation proclamation, 547. 

— reception of the news of Cornwallis's surrender, in 
the English. 58. 

Cable, the Atlantic, telegraph, section of the, 629. 

— the atteniDts and failures to lav. 6;w 

— tne scene at the completion of, 0;'2. 

— the first message transmitted through, 634. 
California, disastrous earthquake in, IGl. 

— tlie acquisition of, 347. 

— rapid growth of. account of the, 366. 

— reign of the vigilance committee in, 395. 



INDEX. 



729 



California, the gold excitement of 1848 In, 360. 

— Fremont's expeditions to, JOl. 

— the first execution in, 396. 

Campaign against Vicksburg by the Union forces, 654. 
Canbv, Gen., surrender of Generals Uick Taylor and 

Kirby Smith to. 015. 
Canxoxading of Fort Sumter, 500. 

— of Vicksburg, 555. 

Capital, national, description of the, llti. 
Capitol, Washington laying the corner stone of the 
national, 116. 

— Webster's oration at the laying of the corner stone 
of the extension of the national, 118. 

Capture of Major Andre, the British spy, 50. 

— of Aaron Burr, 147. 

— of Gibbs the pirate, 226. 

— of the assassin, John Wilkes Booth, C25. 
Cardinal, Archbishop McCIoskey, first American, 676, 
Career of Benedict Arnold, 48. 

— of Aaron Burr, 129. 

— of Gibbs, the noted pirate, 222. 

— of Capt. Raphael Semmes, 581. 

Carpexter, F. B., the great historical painting of the 
"proclamation of emancipation" by, 546. 

Cathedral, the most magnificent American, dedica^ 
tion of, 675. 

— ceremonies of the dedication of St, Patrick's, 680. 
Catholic cardinal, consecration of the first, in Amer- 
ica, 675. 

Cattle, actions of, dviring the eclipse of 1806, 136. 
Celebratiox of the completion of the Pacific Rail- 
road, 637. 

— of the one hundredth anniversary of the birth of 
the republic, 698. 

Cextexxial commemoration of the birth of the re- 
public, 689. 

— celebration of independence day, 1876, 698. 
Ceremony, at the resignation of Washington as com- 
mander-in-chief of the army, 68. 

— of the presentation of John Adams, first minister 
to England, to King George III., 74. 

— at the opening of the centennial exhibition, 692. 
Cerro Gordo, Victory of Gen. Winfield Scott at, 350. 
Ch.vmpioxship, of the sea, race for the, 403. 

— of the Union cause in England, Henry Ward Beech- 
er's, 573. 

Change of scene after the dark day of 1780, 44. 
CilAPULTEPEC. account of the storming of, 347. 
Cherbourg, the duel of the iron-clads at, 581. 
Chicago, the destruction by fire of, in 1871, 653. 

— reception of the Prince of Wales at, 494. 
Cholera, the scourge of the Asiatic, 368. 

— its visits to and ravages in America, 369. 

— its causes, 369. 

— phenomena of and incidents in relation to, 370. 

— the fancied preventives and remedies of, .".70. 

— horrible scenes during the prevalence of. 371-375. 

— comparative mortality of, between the .sexes. .374. 
Christmas gift of Gen. Sherman toPres. Lincoln. 605. 
Cixcixx.VTi, ovation to the Prince of Wales at, 695. 
City of Washington in 1876, 110. 

Ciyil war, the cause of the, 501. 

the first aggression in the, at Sumter, 502. 

the first battle of the, 517. 

the last battle of the, 607. 

remarkable coincidence in the. 613. 

Clay, Henry, the duel of, with John Randolph, lf6. 
Coincidence, of the great earthquake, and first steam 
navigation. 157. 

— of the first and last battle of the war, 61.'^. 
Colleges, account of the progress of American, 668. 
Collision, the strange, of the Arctic and Vesta, 4i;9. 
Colt, John C, murder of Adams by, 384. 



Colt, conviction for murder and suicide in prison of,385. 
Combat oi the Merrimac and Monitor, 520. 

— of the Alabama and Kearsarge, 581. 
Comet, the remarkable, of 1843, account of, 300. 
Comets of the century, account of, 3(i5. 
Commemor.^.tion. centennial, of Independence. 698. 
Completion of the Pacific Railroad, celebration of, 637. 

scene at Promontory Point upon the, G41. 

Commerce with Japan, the first treaty for, 485. 
Confederacy, Southern, attempt to establish a, ,501. 

the fall of the capital of the. 607. 

Conflagration, the most destructive of the age. 653. 

— singular exemption of a single house in the, 659. 
Consecration, the first, of a prince of the Catholic 

Chur-^h, in America, 078. 
Conspiracy, to form an American empire. 142. 

— of Booth and others to assassinate the principal 
officers of the government. 017. 

Constitution, Federal, formation of the. 77. 

— the causes leading to the formation of the, 78. 

— the objects sought to be attained by the, 78. 

— the men who shaped the, 78, 79. 

— John Randolph's plan of a. 80. 

— the exciting debate upon the. 80. 

— the secrecy of the debate upon the, 80. 

— speech of Benj. Franklin upon the. 81. 

— scenes in convention upon adoption of the, 82. 

— declaration of Washington upon signing the, 82. 

— acceptance, by the states, of the. 83. 

— fifteenth amendment to the. passage of the, 552. 
Convention, the great constitutional, of 1787, 79. 
Cornwallis. Lord, surrender of. at Yorktown, 55. 

— house where the surrender of, took place, 55. 

— scene at the surrender of, 57. 
Corliss engine, the great, 692. 

Cotton Gin, Eli Whitney's invention of the, 98. 

how it was suggested to Whitney, 99. 

scene at a, 101. 

— — the change wrought by the, in the South, 103. 
the effect upon the commercial world of the, 104. 

Crisis, the terrible financial, of 1857, 447. 

— at Antietara, the, 540. 

Crystal Palace, opening of the, at Kew York, 420. 

— view of the, 425. 

Cumberl.'VND, the sinking of the, by the Merrimac. .^28. 
" Cup of all nations," won by the yacht America, 409. 



Dana. Prof., his theory as to petroleum, 483. 
Dancing, American ladies, with Prince Albert, 498. 
Danville, .Jetferson Davis establishing his seat of gov- 
ernment at, 014. 
Dark day. the mysterious, of 1780, 40. 

— incidents and anecdotes of the, 41. 

— phenomena, unexplained, attending the, 42. 

— the extent obscured on the, 45. 

— scientific theories as to the cause of the, 46. 

— the unsolved mystery of the, 47. 

Davis. Andrew Jackson, the spiritual medium, 345. 

— Jefferson, at the battle of Bull Run. 524. 
the flight of, after Lee's surrender. 014. 

Dead Sea, Lynch's expedition to the, 354. 

— the shores and surroundings of the, 358. 

— the mystery solved of the. .359. 
Death, of George Washington. 169. 

— of Alexander Hamilton. 133. 

— of John Quincy Adams in the national capit.il. 202. 

— of Abraham Lincoln, 617. 

— tragic, of John Wilkes Booth, the assassin, PL'f, 
Death-bed. scene at President Waiihington's, 122. 

— scene at President Lincoln's. 621. 

Debate, the great, between Webster and Hayne. 2<i.5. 



750 



INDEX. 



Debate, the questions discussed in, 20(J. 

the debaters in, contrasted, 2tJ». 

scene after Webster's speeoh in, 211. 

— th« eleven days', on the right ot" petition, 253. 

— the great political, of Lincoln and Douglas, 469. 
scene during, 470. 

Declaratiox of national sovereignty, 25. 

Decov letter sent by Washington to attract Coruwallis 

to Yorktown, 58. 
Dedication of the Bull Run memorial monument,. 525. 

— of St. Patrick's cathedral in New York, G80. 
Defeat of the British ship of war, Serapis, 35. 

— of the British under Cornwallis at Y'orktown, 57. 

— of the Indians by Mad Anthony Wayne, 93. 

— of St. Clair by "Little Turtle," 95. 

— of British squadron on Lake Erie by Perry, 167. 

— of the British at New Orleans by Gen. Jackson, 176. 

— of Santa Anna by Gen. Taylor, o5i>. 

— of the Mexicans by Gen. Scott, 352. 

— of the Union forces at Bull Run, 523. 

— of the Confederates at Vicksburg, 557. 

— of the Confederates at Gettysburg, 567. 

— of the Alabama by the Kearsarge, 587. 

— of the Confederate iron-clads at New Orleans, 593. 

— of the Confederates at Fort Fisher, 507. 

— of the Confederates at Savannah, 005. 

— of Gen. Lee by Gen. Grant at Richmond, CIO. 
Defense of the Union, Beecher's, in England, 573. 
De Kalb, visit of AVasliiugton and Lafayette to the 

grave of, 192. 

Delegates to the convention for framing the federal 
constitution, 78. 

Delusion, the Second Advent, of Miller, 307. 

DnrARTCiiE of Lafayette from America. 195. 

DeKochamueau, Count, at Yorktown, 59. 

Desk on which Jeilerson wrote the declaration of inde- 
pendence, 700. 

Destri'ction of the world, the expected, 307. 

— — 5"ev. William Miller's prophecy of, 308. 

• the preparations made for the impending, 311. 

— by the great flood in 181.", 178. 

Devotion of Theodosia, daughter of Aaron Burr, to 

her father, 118. 
Diary, "Washington's last entry in his, 120. 
Difficulty of traveling during the " dark day," 40. 
Dinner given by Washington to Lord Cornwallis after 

the surrender f»f Yorktown, 01. 

— Washington's toast to the British army at the, 62, 
Discovery of ether as an anresthetic. Slo. 

— of gold at Sutter's mills in California, .360. 
Dissolution of the Union, the petition presented by 

John Quincy Adams, to congress for the, 257. 
Distinguished temperance advocates. 282. 
District of Columbia, the laying the first corner stone 

by Washington in, 116. 
DoM Pedro, Emperor of Brazil, visit of, to the United 

States, 690. 

— starting the great engine at the centennial, 692. 
Double execution by the vigilance committee in San 

Francisco. 395. 

Douglas, Stephen A,, the great debate of, with Abra- 
ham Lincoln, 469. 

Drafting of the declaration of independence, 26. 

— of the emancipation proclamation, 546. 
Dreams, the prophetic, of President Lincoln, 618. 
Duel, the fatal, of Burr and Hamilton, 127. 

— the harmless, of Clay and Randolph, 196. 
Dueling ground at Weehawken. view of the, 131. 

— Alexander Hamilton's testimony against, 132. 

— ground at Bladensburg, view of the. 2^2. 
Dying words of George Washington. 119. 

— John Quincy Adams, in the national capital, 262. 

— message of the assassin Booth to his mother, 627. 



Early home of President Lincoln, C17. 
Earthquake, the great western, of 1811, 156. 

its extent and disastrous etlects, 157. 

its long-continued violence, 159. 

the changes wrought by, 160. 

Eclipse, the total solar, at mid-day, of 1606. 

effect upon the witnesses of, 135. 

— — the actions of beasts and bir^ls during, 136. 

scientitic calculations based upon, 137. 

reports from ditfei-ent observers of, 138. 

views of the superstitious upon, 140. 

Edison, Thomas A., the inventor, accounts of, 681. 

— his improvements upon the electric light, 682. 

— his invention of the phonograph, Gbo. 

— his invention of the microphone, 687. 
Edmonds, Judge, account of, as a spiritualist, 345. 

— his classification of spiritual mediums, 345. 
Education, free popular, in the United States, rise 

and progress of, 667. 

— contrast of the old with the new system of. 670, 
-^ the grants of public lands in aid of, 671. 

— bureau of, at Washington, 672. 

— free public, for females, condition of schools for, 673. 
Egypt, its contribution to the exhibition of 1876, 697. 
Election, first, of a president '-f the United States. 85. 
Electric light, the invention of, by Prof. Farmer, 6bl. 

description of the, 682. 

the adaptations to use of the, 683. 

at sea, 683. 

— telegraph, the invention-of the, 244. 
Electricity, experiments of Prof. :\Iorse with, 244. 

— the trial of, in congress by Gov. Wallace, 247. 
Eli Whitney, the inventor of the cotton gjn, 100. 
Emancipation, Pres. Lincoln's proclamation of, 544. 

— the exigency that caused the prtwlamation of. .545. 

— the great event of the 19th century, estimated by 
Lincoln as, 548. 

— public reception of proclamation of, 550. 

— its effect upon the freedmen, 551. 
Eminent revival preachers of the century, 460. 
EMn,\ssY, the first, from the New Republic to the Eng- 
lish Court, 70. 

— the results of John Adams's to George III., 75. 

— the first Oriental, to a foreign government, 486. 
Emigration, the great, to California in the gold ex- 
citement of 1848. 367. 

— the great, to the oil regions in 1859, 476. 
Emperor of Germany, letter of, to Pres. Grant. 704. 

• his congratulations upon the republic's centen- 
nial anniversary. 707. 

— of Brazil, Dom Pedro, at the centenninl, 692. 
Encomium \ipon Massachusetts. Dani^'l Webster's, 209. 
End of the world, the Millerites awniting the, 310. 
Engine, the Corliss, nt the exposition of ls76, 692. 

Pres. Grant and Dom Pedro starting the, 692. 

Engineering, feats of, in the construction of the Pa- 
cific railway, 638. 

England, the reception of the first Republican ambas- 
sador by, 70. 

— the heir to the throne of, in the United States, 493. 

— banishment of Aaron Burr from. 148. 
Entrance of the United States army into the capital 

of Mexico, 3.52. 

— of the Union army into the ConfederRte capital. 610. 

— of the New Ynrk Seventh Regiment into Union 
Square at the centennial celebration. 701. 

Epidemics, the great yellow fever and cholera. 368. 

— the several great, of the century, 369. 

— heart-rending scenes during the prevalence of, 371. 
FnirssoN. construction of the "Monitor" by, 530, 
Ether, discovery of, as an anaesthetic. 324. 



INDEX. 



751 



Ether, religious objections urged against tlie use of, 325. 

— the tliree claimnuts to the discovery of, 326. 

— the ettects, beneticent aud amusing, of 329. 

— Ward's monument in honor of the discovery of, 330. 
EVARTS, William ZM., the centennial oration of, t>i.t8. 
Everett, Edward, his eulogy of Webster's speech 

against Hayne, 210. 
Excitement, the great gold, of lti4S, 360. 

— the great temperance, of 1849, 2bl. 

— the great financial, of 1^57, 447. 

— the great religious, of 1859, 406. 

— the great petroleum, of lJrD9, 476. 

— the great patriotic, of 18G1, 501. 
Execution, the first in California, 396. 
Executions, by the vigilance committee of Cali- 
fornia, 401). 

Exeter hall, London, Uenry Ward Beecher's defense 

of the Union cause in, 575. 
Exhibition, the great, of 1853 in New York, 421. 

— the great centennial of 1876 in Philadelphia, 689. 
Expected destruction of the world, the, 307. 
Expedition, Fremont's to the Kocky mountains, 285. 

— of Lieut. Lynch to the Dead Sea and Jordan, 354. 
Explanation of the electric light, 6^2. 

— of the telephone, C84. 

— of the phonograph, 685. 

— of the microphone, 687. 

Exploration of the Dead Sea and lUver Jordan, 
Lynch's, 354. 

— of the Rocky mountains, Fremont's, 2?6. 
Explosion, terrible, of Com. Stockton's monster gon, 

on the Princeton, 319. 
Exposition, the grand centennial, of 1876, 689. 

— Pres. Grant and Dom Pedro at the, G92. 
Expunging resolution, the Benton, passage of, in U. S. 

senate, 263. 

three years parliamentary struggle over the, 268. 

Extknsivf, earthquake at the West, of 1811, 156. 
Kxtbaordinarv, combat of the iron-clada, Merrimac 

and Monitor, 520. 

— coincidence as to tbe first and last battles of the 
civil war, 613. 

F.xultation, at the declaration of independence, 28. 
— at the proclaniati'iu of emancipation, 550. 



Fac-S!MILE, of the expiuiged Jackson resolution, 267. 
~ of the seal of the vigilance committee, 397. 

— of the signature of the Fmperor of Germany, 706. 
Failurks, during the great financial panic, of 1857,448. 
Fall of Fort Sumter, 503. 

— of Richmond, 007. 

Famous whiskey insurrection of 1794 in Penn., 106. 
Farewell words of Washuigton to his army. r.7. 

of Washington's mother to Washington, 85. 

of President Monroe to Lafayette, 195. 

— of Gen. Lee to his oflicers, 613. 

— message of the inunlerer Booth to Ms mother, 626. 
Farmer, Prof., invention of the electric, light by, fi«2. 
Farnsworth, Gen., at the dedication of the monu- 
ment on the battle field of Bull Run. 525. 

Farragut, Adm., achievements of, at New Orleans, 589. 

— his running the Confederate batteries at Forts 
Jackson and St. Philip, 500. 

— his gallant action in Mobile bay, 592. 

F\8T1NG and prayer, national day of, during the great 
pestilence of, 1.^49. .369. 

F\TAL do*'! bf^tween Aaron Burr and Alexander Ham- 
ilton. 127. 

Father Mathew. his visits to the L^nited States. 281. 

Federal constitution, its formation and adoption, 77. 

I'TRLI>. Cyrop W., at laying of the Atlantic rable. fxW. 



•'Fifteenth amendment." adoption of the, 552. 
Fillmore. Presideni. m Uie laying of the cornerstone 

of the capiiul exiensiun, ll^. 
Financial crisis, the great of, 1857, 447. 
Fire, the great Chicago, 653. 
First American cardinal, 676. 

— election of president of the United States, 65. 

— engagement of the civil war, 518. 

— execution in California, 396. 

— gun of the great rebellion, 502. 

— minister to England, 71. 

— naval victory of the United States, 35. 

— occupation of a foreign capital by U. S. army. . . 

— oriental embassy, 485. 

— squadron combat of the U. S. navy, 163. 

— steamboat in American waters, 150, 

— steam railway, 646. 

— telegraphic message over an established line, 249. 

— telegraphic message through the Atlantic cable, 634. 
Flag, the first display of a U. S. naval, 32. 

— description of the first U. S. naval ensign, 33, 

— the British, first striking of, at sea, to the U S.. 38. 

— the fall of the U. S.. at Fort Sumter, ^h. 

— the restoration of the U. S.. at Fori Sumter, 615. 
Flight of Jefierson Davis, after Lee's surrender, 6!4. 

of John Wilkes Booth, after his crime, 625. 

Foot, Senator, the famous resolution of, 206. 
FooTE, Admiral, his naval services, 861. 
Ford's theater Washington, D. C, 618. 

scene in, at the assassination of Lincoln. 520, 

Formation of the federal constitution, 77. 
Fort Fisher, Admiral Porter's victory at, 697. 

— McAllister, fall of, 605. 

— Moultrie, in the operations at Charleston, 50.3. 

— Sumter, bombardment of, 501. 

— — gallant defense of, by Gen. Kob. Anderson, 502. 

evacuation of, by the United Stutes garrison, .505. 

restoration of the U. S. flag to, 615. 

Fortifications, at Vicksburg. 554. 

Founding of tbe national capital, 112. 

Fox Sisters, the wonderful mediuniB, career of the. 342. 

Franklin, Benjamin, pleading for pacification, 81, 

— Gen., at the battle of Bull Kun, 520. 
Free, popular education, progress of. 667. 
Freedom of the slaves, Lincoln's proclamation of. M4, 
Frederick the Great, his eulogy of WasbingroD. 125 
Fremont. John C, his expedition to the Ro^ky moii") 

tains, 285. 
Fulton, Kohert. the early life of. 150. 

— the invention of the steamboat by, 151. 

— the first pecuniary reward of, 154. 
Funeral of Geo. W.ishinpton, 12."^. 

— of Abraham Lincoln, 617. 



Gai^e, the memorable, of in5, 178. 

its havoc on land and sea, 179. 

the singular phenomena accompanying, 179. 

estimates of property destroyed by, l>'.i. 

Gardiner, " Awful," the revivalist prize-fighter, 4fi.3. 
Generals, the two great, face to face, 607. 
Germany, letter of the Emperor of, to Pres. Grant, 7* 5 
Gettvsburo. the three days' battle at. 563, 

— scene at the height of. .^)67. 

— tbe last desperate charge of tbe Confederates at. 561* 
Gibbs, the pirate, career of; the real name of, 222, 

— his war on the commerce of all nations. 224. 

— his capture, execution and remorne, 227, 
Gold, the discovery of, in California, 360. 

Capt. Sutter'8 search for. .36.1. 

— James W. Marshall's accidental di«coven ''t. '^'>*- 

— the great emigr*itiin to th'» land of, 3fi7. 



732 



INDEX. 



Good Templars, gathering of, at the centennial, 693. 
Gra>"d AiiMV of the republic, at lh(3 centennial, 693. 

— balls to Albert Edward, Prince of Wales, 498, 499. 

— dinner given by Washington to Cornwallis, 61. 

— march of Sherman's army through the South, 599. 
Gra.ngers, the national organization of, Btio. 

— the principles, aims and extent of, tiCl. 
Grant, Ulysses S., victory of, at Vicksburg, 5&i. 

— surrender of the Confederate army to, 613. 

— his election to the presidency of the U. S., 614. 

— iiiaugiu:ation of the exposition of lt.76, by, 6911. 
Gkkat whiskey insurrection in Pennsylvania, 105. 

— debate between Webster and Hayue, 205. 

— struggle for the right of petition in congress, 262. 

— temperance reformation of 1840, 276. 

— awakening in the religious world in 1S57, 456. 

— conflagration at Chicago, 653. 

Greatest defeat and victory in Indian wars, 91. 

— new year's present of the century, 647, 

H. 

Hall of Independence, Philadelphia, 1776, 2T. 
Halls of the .Montezumas, Gen. Scott in the, 362. 
Ha-MILtox, Alexander, the public life of, 127. 

— his fatal duel with Aaron Burr, 127. 

— his testimony against dueling, 132. 

— the funeral obsequies of, 133. 

— the meeting of the widow of, with Aaron Burr, 133. 
Hammond, E. P., the revival preacher, 460. 
Hampton- Koads, the combat of the iron-clads in, 526. 
Ha>-( (n K, .John, his signature to the declaration of in- 
dependence, 31. 

Harold, the trial, conviction and execution of, 628. 
Harper's Ferrv, the surrender of, 636. 
Ha-Rrison, Gen., his victory over Tecmnseh, 170. 
Hart, Sergeant, gallant action of, at Fort Sumter, 606. 

— raising the flag at Sumter after the war, 616. 
Hartford, battle of the, with the Tennessee. 594. 
Harvard College, the growth of, 668. 

Hatch, Cora L. V., the noted spiritual medium, W6. 
Ha YNK, the great debate of, with Webster, 205, 
Head-qcarters of General Arnold, 53. 

— of Gen. Sleade at Gettysburg, 663. 
Hei.ntzelman, Gen., the division of, at Bull Run, 618. 
Hf.ir to the British throne, his tour of the U. S., 493. 
Hknry, Patrick, the eloquent appeal of, 26. 
Hooker, Gen. .Joseph, at Antietam, 636. 

Holmes, Oliver Wendell, his tribute to etherization, ,326 
Home, D. I>., the celebrated spiritual medium. ?A?.. 
Horrible Disaster on board the Princeton, 319. 
Horrors of the whirlwind of 1815, 163. 

— of the cholera visitations, 372. 

— of the lynch law in California, ,396. 
House where Cornwallis surrendered, 65. 

— in which spirit rappings originated, 341. 

— where President Lincoln died, 621. 

— of President Lincoln nt Springfield, ni., 623. 

— remaining after the conflagration of Chicago, 664. 

— in which Thomas Jefferson wrote the declaration 
of independence, 689. 

Howard, Gen., his service with Sherman's army, 602. 
Horse Tamin-o, astonishing feats of Prof. Rarey in, 509. 

Queen Victoria at Karey's exhibition of, 613. 

HOWK, Elias, his invention of the sewing machine, X». 
HtTMBOLDT, his tribute to an American explorer, 290. 
HOKTRB, Gon., division of, at battle of Bull Run. 518. 

I. 

iNvrorRATiox of Washington as flrst president. S6. 

— bihle upoo at the, "a. 

1>-DFPKNDE>CB, the declaration of Araericar.. 26. 



Ikdepekdexce, the causes which led to, 26. 

eloquence of Patrick Henry in support of, 26. 

resolution of Richard Henry Lee for, 26. 

original draft of, the maker of the. 26. 

speech of John Adams upon, 26. 

views of Washington as to, 26. 

the scenes following the proclamation of, 28. 

enthusiasm of the people upon, 28. 

the reception, by foreign powers of. 29. 

the final accomplishment of the purpose of, 31. 

centennial celebration of, 698. 

the centennial reading of the original of, 699. 

— hall at Philadelphia, July 4, 1876, 09.1. 

Lndias Wars, the greatest defeats and victories fn, 9i 

defeat of St. Clair by "Little Turtle " in the, u^ 

victories of JIad Anthony Wayne in, 95. 

Gen. Jackson's ending of the, 97. 

LNonsTKY of all nations, great exhibition of the. In 
New York, 421. 

— the objects of the society of Sovereigns of, 666. 
Insurrection, the famous whiskey, in Pecn., 106. 

the origin and motto of, 106. 

the suppression of, by Washington and Lee, W 

Interior of the World's fair of 1853 in New York. 421. 

— of Fort Sumter after the bombardment, 607. 

— of the tower of the Jlonitor, ,520. 
International Rfgatta, won by "the America," 403 
Interview of John Adams with the King and Qoeor 

of England, 73. 

— between Aaron Burr and his pursuers, 14T. 

— of Gen. Washington and Lafayette, first, 18T. 

— of LaLayette and Red .Jacket. i'M. 

— of .Jenny Lind and P. T. Barniim, first. 390. 

— of the .Jjipanese emhaspy and Prea. Buchanan. IRH 

— of Grant and Peniberton before Vicksburg, 6«0 

— of Generals Grant and Lee after the last battle. nCT. 
Intention of the cotton gin by Wliitney, 9«. 

— of the electric telegraph by Morse, 244. 

— of the sewing machine by Howe, 3,'*2. 

— of the electric light by Fanjier, 681. 

— of the telephone by Bell, 684. 

— of the phonograph by Edison, 685. 

— of the microphone by E<lison, 687. 
Invitation to Lafayette, by Congress, to visit the 

United States as the guest of tlio nation, 1x9. 

— to Kossuth to take refuge in America, 414. 

— to the Prince of Wales to visit the Unit<<i1 Stiit.», 
by President Buchanan. 493. 

Iron-ct.aj>s, the combats of the, 6?/i, 631. 



Jackson. Gen., his decisive victory over the !n<Unns. 97 

— victory of, at Kew Orleans, 171. 

— the generalship of, 172. 

— ending of the war of 1812 by, 176. 

— " conqueror of Napoleon's conquerors," how he 
won the title of, 177. 

^ attempted assassination of, 2.38. 

— the expunging of the resolutions of censure of, ?f7 

— Dr. Charles T., his claim to the ether invention, 32'^ 

— General Stonewall, at Antietam, 540. 

.Japan, the first treaty of peace and commercf'Tith, 492. 
Japanese, the first embassy to a foreign r<^**''' '>f 
the, 486. 

— manner of bearing the treaty, 485. 

— ambassadors, description of the, 486. 

— Tommy, the petting of, by the Americnn ladies. 4pi. 
Jefferson. Thomas, his draft of the declaration of 

indeperdence. 26. 
.Jkffrrsov Davis, flight of, after Lee's Bnrrender. 614. 
JRVNV I.IVD. hermusical tourinthe United StAtee_ 38fi 

— her tiret appearance, in opera. .387. 



INDEX. 



733 



Jenxv LrxD, her musical career, "fs. 
— her first concert iu llie United States, 390. 

— ber generous gift to the poor iu Xew York, 351. 

— the furor over, 31)1. 

— her duet with Dauiel 'Webster, 393. 

— her pecuniary success in the Uuited States, 394. 
Ju>-Es, John Paul, Commodore, history of, 32. 

— the first display of an United States ensign by, 33. 

— his capture of the Serapis, 30. 

JoRD.ix, the exploration of the river, by Lynch, 3&4. 

— the waters and fishes of the river, 335. 

— the banks and scenery of the, 3X. 

— description of the valley of the, 357. 
JCLY 4, 1776, the ««ntennial celebration of 698. 

K. 

Kearsaroe, capture of the Alabama by the, 586. 

Kellv, O. H., one of the founders of the National 
Grange organization, CGI. 

Keves, Gen., the brigade of, at Bull Kun,620. 

KiLPATRicK, Gen., the battle flag of, at Gettysburg, 570. 

Jvi.NDS of spiritual manifestations. Judge Edmond"3 
definition of the several, 345. 

KING George III., his reception of the first ambassa- 
dor from the United States, 74. 

— Fredeiick William, tribute of, to Fremont, 290. 
King's College, old, view of, 668. 

Kirk, Edward N., the revivalist, 657, 

Kit Caksij.v, the companion and guide of Fremont in 

the Kocky mountains, 286. 
K.\APP, Jacob, the revivalist, 460. 
K.MGHTs TE.M I'LAUs, assembly of, at PUila. in 1876, 693. 

— of Pythias, parade of the, at the centennial, 693. 
Knowledge of rock oils among the early Indians, 476. 
Kossuth, the visit of, to the United States, 412. 

— biography of, 413. 

— Daniel Webster's laudation of, 418. 

— eloquence and characteristics of, 417. 

I_. 

Labor Organizations, history of the, 660. 
Lafayette, gallantry of, at Yorktown, 56. 

— his early soldier life, 187. 

— his reception by Gen. Washington, 188. 

— his gallant services in the revolution, 189. 

— his visit to the United States as the guest of the na- 
tion, by invitation of congress, 189. 

— his last visit to the United States, 190, 

— his interview with Red Jacket, 194. 

— his visit to the tomb of Washington, 194. 

— his parting interview with President Monroe, 195. 
Lake Erie, the great naval combat on, 163. 
Lakes formed by the great earthquake of 1811, 160. 
Last hours and words of Gen. Washington, 119. 

— words written by President Lincoln, 019. 
Latter-day Saints, origin and tenets of. 216. 
Lamng the corner stone of the national capitol, 116. 

— the corner stone of Bunker Hill monument, 192. 

— the Atlantic telegraphic cable, 630. 

Lee, Gen. Henry, his suppression of the great whiskey 
insurrection iu Pennsylvania, 111. 

— Gen. Robert E., at Gettysburg, .564. 

— his surrender to Gen. Grant at Appomatox, 612. 
Letter of King George on the defeat at Yorktown, 60. 

— last, of General Washington, 120. 

— congratulatory, of Emperor William of Germany to 
President Grant, 705. 

— of Queen Victoria to President Buchanan. 4W. 
Life among the gold-diggers of California, 367. 
Lincoln, Abraham, his great debate with Douglas, 469. 

— his election to the presidency, 475. 



Lincoln, his emancipation proclamation, 544. 

— and his cabinet discussing emancipation, 549. 

— his visit to Richmond after Lee's surrender, 613. 

— the murderous assault of J. Wilkes Booth upon,' 617. 

— the prophetic dream of, 618. 

— the scene at the death-bed of, 621. 

— last words written by, 619. 

— the funeral obsequies of, 023. 

LiND, Jenny, the musical tour in America of, 386. 
" Little Turtle," his victory over St. Clair, 95! 
Loco.motive, the first use of the, 646. 
London, celebration of the American centennial in 703 
Longstreet, Gen., at the battle of Antietam, 569.' 
Loss of the steamer Arctic by collision at mid-day, 429. 
Losses of the two contending armies at Bull Run,' 526. 
Lot's Wife, discovered by Lynch's expedition, 359. 
Lynch Law, reign of, in California in 1851, 395. 
Lynch, Lieut., expedition of, to the Dead Sea, 354. 
Lyell, Prof., his account of the great earthquake, 160. 

M. 

Machinery building, at the centennial of 1S76, 693. 

Maffit, John X., the revivalist, 456. 

Magnificent Aurora Borealis of 1837, 269. 

Malignant Epidemics, visits of, to the U. s. 368 

Manassas, battle of, 517. ' 

Ma.vchester, attempts to silence Beecher in, 574. 

Manifestations, spiritual, accounts of, 344.' 

Mansfield, Gen., death of, at Antietam'. 536. 

Manuscript of the emancipation proclamation, 544. 

March of General Sherman's army to the sea, 598. 

Marine Disaster, terrible, to the Arctic, 428. ' 

Marshall, accidental discovery of gold by, 364. 

Masonic Ceremonies at the national capitol, 115 

Massachusetts, Webster's eulogy of, 209. 

JIathe'W. Father, his temperance mission, 281. 

McClellan, Gen., at Antietam, 536. 

JIcCloskev, Archbishop, first American cardinal, 675. 

consecration of, 676. 

McDowell, Gen., at Bull Run, 518. 

McLean, first and last battle of the civil war fought on 

the farm of, 613. 
JIcPherson, Gen., the surrender of Vicksburg to, 560. 
Meade, Gen., at Gettysburg, 563. 
Mediums, spiritual, accounts of the great, 342. 
Meigs, the volunteer generalship of the young son of 

Gen.. 524. 
Memueks of the first constitutional convention, 78. 
Meruimac and .Monitor, combat of the, 526. 
.Message, the first telegraphic, 249. 

— the first from Europe, over the -Atlantic cable, 634. 
Messages between the President and the Queen, 634. 
Meteoric Shower of 1833, the great, 228. 

the extent covered by the. 229. 

the changes of weather wrought by the, 231. 

theorie.'!, scientific and superstitious, as to, 233. 

Metropolitan Elevated Railway in X Y., 652. 
Mexico, conquests of Gens. Scott and Taylor in', 347-353. 

— the American army entering the capital of, 352. 
Microphone, the invention of the, by Edison,' 681! 
Mid-ocean, collision of steamers at noonday in, 428. 

— union of the telegraphic cables in. 629. 
JIillek, William, Rev., the latter-day prophet, 307. 
Mining Operatio.vs in California. 360. 
.Minister to England, the first American, 70. 
Minnesota, combat of, with the JNIerrimac, 529. 
Miracles of Science, the four, 680. 

.Mobile Bay, exploits of Admiral Farragut in, 694, 
Modern locomotive, the, 647. 

— railway car, the. 649. 

JIoNiTOR AND .Mkrrimac, battle between the, 82«. 
Monroe, Pres., parting address of, to Lafayette, 196. 



^1 



734 



INDEX. 



MoNTEREV, Gen. Taylor's victory at. 348. 
Monument to Alexander Huniilion, 1:^7. 

— laying the corner stone of Bunker Hill, 192. 

— to the discovery of etherization, 330. 

— to the victims of cholera, 370. 

— soldiers', the, at Gettysburg, 571. 

Moody and Sankev, the great revivalists, 456. 
Mormon Temple at Nauvoo, description of the, 221. 
Mormons, the rise and progress of the, 214. 

— origin of the sect of, 215. 

— their leaders and theology, 21G. 

— the first church of the, 217. 

— proselyting in Europe by the, 219. 

— murder of Lieut. Gov. Boggs by the, 219. 

— Brjgham Young's connection with the, 220. 

— Salt Lake City, the Zion of the, description of, 221. 
Morse, Prof., his invention of the telegraph, 244. 

— his trials, troubles and triumphs. 245. 
Morton, Dr., his claim to the ether invention, 326. 
Mortality from the Asiatic cholera. 3G9. 
Mountains, Rocky. Fremont's expedition to the, 285. 
Mount Vernon, visit of Lafayette to, IM. 

the Prince of Wales at, i'JG. 

Murder of Dr. Parkman by Prof. Webster, 376. 

— of Samuel Adams by John C. Colt, 3S4. 
Musical Tour of Jenny Liml in the United States. 386. 
Mutiny, first in the U. S. navy, on the Somers, 290. 
Mysterious Dark Day of 1780, 40. 



N. 

Napoleon, his eulogy of Washington, 124. 
Narrative of the eclipse of 1806, Cooper's, 135. 
Narrow Escape of Pres. Jackson from an assassin, 236. 

of President Tyler at Princeton explosion, 317. 

National Capital, founding of the. 112. 

bitter sectional contest as to its location, 113. 

the reasons for selection of present site of the, 115. 

National Capitol, Washington and the Freemasons 
laying the corner stone of the, 116. 

Webster laying the corner stone of the exten- 
sion of the, 118. 
National Ensign, first display of a naval, 3.3. 
National Grange Organization, history of the, 660. 
Naval Victory, the first United States. 32. 

Commodore John Paul Jones's great, 38. 

Commodore Perry's, on Lake Erie, 1G3. 

of the Monitor over the Merrimac, 526. 

of the Kearsarge over the Alabama. 587. 

Navigation, by steam, first, of American waters, 159. 
Negro Slaves, the emancipation of the, 544, 

rejoicing of, over their freedom, 550. 

New Mexico, the acquisition of, 353. 

New Orleans, victory of Gen. Jackson at, 176. 

achievements of Admiral Farragut at, 590. 

New Republic, the birth of the, 25. 

centennial commemorations of, 689. 

News, of the declaration of independence, reception at 
home and abroad, of the, 28. 

— of the fall of Sumter, etfect of the, 508. 

— of the surrender of Lee, etfect of the, 607. 

— the first sent over the Atlantic cable, 634. 
New Wonders of the world, the four, 680, 
New York, arrival of Lafayette in, 190. 

grand military reception of Kossuth in, 416. 

great industrial exhibition of 1853, in, 421. 

great financial panic of 1857, in, 451. 

grand ball to the Prince of Wales in, 498. 

Nomination of Washington as General. &4. 

— of Abraham Lincoln to the presidency, 475. 
Normal School in New York, 670. 
North, the great uprising of the, 508. 



North-west, Fremont's expedition to the far. 286, 
North-western university, the, 669. 

O- 

Oath, administering of the, to Washington, 89. 

— of Lincoln as tt» emancipation. 548. 
Objections, religious, against aniesthetics, 325. 
Objects of the Grange and Labor organizations, 326. 
Obsequies of President Washington, 123. 

— of Alexander Hamilton, 1;j3. 
" of President Lincoln, G23. 

Observations, scieutitic, of the total eclipse of ISOC, 137. 
Obstinacy of Geo. IIL as to American atfairs, 71. 
Occupation of the Mexican capital by United States' 

troops, 346. 
Ocean, loss of the Arctic by noonday collision in mid, 42!*. 
Odd Fellows, parade of, at Philadelphia, in 1876, (i!'3. 
Ode, Bayard Taylor's centennial, recited at Phil., 690. 
Ohio, first steamboat on the riv**- 195. 

— establishment of the Morn. n, 218. 

Oil regions of Penn., Ky., Ohio and Canada, 478. 

— rock, the use of, by the early Indians, 476. 
Onward Movement, the first of the loyal army, 616. 
Opening act of the civil war, 5(H. 

— of the exhibition of 1876 at Philadelphia, 691. 
Operations at Vicksburg. 554. 

Orations, Daniel Webster's at the laying of the corner 
stone of Bunker Hill monument, li.i2. 

— Daniel Webster's at the laying of the corner stone 
of the capitol extension, 118. 

— of William M.Evarts, at centennial celebration, 698. 
Oratorical championship of America's cause in Kug- 

land, by Henry Ward Beecher, 573. 

— powers of Kossuth, Webster's laudation of the, 418. 

— powers of Webster, Everett's testimony to the, 210. 
Orders of Glory, conferred on Professor Morse, 250. 
Oregon, the exploring tour of Fremont in, 285. 
Oriental Princes, at the White House, 486, 
Original steam car, the, 648. 

— telegraphic instrument, the. 246. 
Ovation, in the United States to Lafaj'ette, 186. 
Ovations to Washington on his journey to his inaugu- 
ration, 86. 



Pacific Railroap. the construction of the. 637. 
Palace, the Crystal, opening of the, in New York, 420. 
Palo Alto, Gen. Taylor's victory at, 488. 
Panic during the great earthquake of 1811, 158. 

— during the prevalence of the Asiatic cholera, 3G9. 

— the great financial, of 1857, 447. 

— exciting and amusing scenes during financial, 440. 

— at Bull Run, 621. 

Paris, celebration of the American centennial in, 703. 
Parkman, Dr., murder of, by Prof. Webster, 376. 
Parting of Gen. Washington with his army, 67. 

— of Washington with his mother. 85. 

— of President Monroe with Lafayette, 195. 

— of Gen. Lee and his army, 613. 

Passage Money, the first paid on a steamboat, 164. 
Payne, triAi, conviction and execution of, 627. 
Pemberton, Gen., interview of, with Gen. Grant, 558. 

— surrender of Vicksburg by, 660. 
Pennsylvania, the great whiskey inpurrection in. 106. 

— the great petroleum excitement in, 476. 
Perry, Commodore, his victory on Lake Erie, 162. 
Petition, the great debate upon the right of, 252. 

— by slaves, for the perpetuation of elavery, 255. 

— for the dissolution of the Union, by MasearhusetM 
citizens, 257. 

Petroleum, the great excitemei.t over, in 1859, 476. 



INDEX. 



736 



PETROLEaM, wells of, in Pennsylvania, US, 

— wells of, in Kentucky, Ohio and Canada, 473. 

— origin and source of, opinions of Professors Dana 
and Silliman as to the, 4t<y. 

— the early knowledge and use of, by the IndJ^ins,476. 
pHiLADELfiUA, the great exposition of 1876 at, 6s9. 
Phenomena during the great gale of 1815, 179. 

— of the dark day of 17t<0, 42, 

— of the noonday total eclipse of 1806, 135. 
Phonograph, the invention of the, by Edison, 681. 
Piracy of James D. Jetfers, alias Gibbs, 2L'2. 
Plot of Benedict Arnold to deliver West Point, 49. 

— of Aaron Burr to establish an American empire, 143. 

— of Booth and others to assassinate the chief offi- 
cers of the government, 627. 

Political Debate, the great, between Lincoln and 

Douglas, 469. 
Pope of Rome, official letter of, 679. 
Popular Sovereigntx, Douglas's advocacy of, 470. 

— labor organizatic _ .arposes and progress of, 660. 

— education, progress of, in the United States. 667. 
Porter, Admiral, his victory at Fort Fisher, 597. 

— Gen. Fitz John, at Antietam, 540. 
Potomac, the army of the, at the centennial, 693. 
Potter, John D., the revivalist, account of, 460. 
Portrait of Commodore John Paul Jones, 34. 

— of Gen. Benedict Arnold, 51. 

— of Lord Cornwallis, 61. 

— of George HI of England, 71. 

— of President John Adams, 74. 

— of Mad Anthony Wayne, 95, 

— of St. Clair, 96. 

— of " Little Turtle," the Miami chief, 97, 

— of Eli Whitney, 102. 

— of David Bradford, 109. 

— of Gen. Henry Lee, 111. 

— of Martha Washington, 120. 

— of George Washington, as colonel, 123. 

— of George Washington, as general, 124. 

— of George Washington, as president, 124. 

— of Gen. Alexander Hamilton, 128. 

— of Aaron Burr, 129. 

— of Theodosia, daughter of Aaron Burr, 148. 

— of Robert Fulton, 151. 

— of Commodore Oliver Hazard Perry, 165. 

— of President William Henry Harrison, 170. 

— of President Andrew Jackson, 174. 

— of Gen. Lafayette, 188. 

— of Senator Henry Clay, 198. 

— of Senator John Randolph, 200. 

— of Senator Robert T. Hayne, 207. 

— of Senator Daniel Webster, 209. 

— of Joseph Smith, the Mormon, 216. 

— of Brigham Young, the Mormon, 218. 

— of Gibbs, the pirate, 224. 

— of Lawrence, the lunatic assailant of Jackson, 240. 

— of Prof. Morse, inventor of the telegraph, 248. 

— of President John Quincy Adams, 254. 

— of Senator Thomas H. Benton, 266. 

— of Gen. John C. Fremont, 288. 

~ of Capt. Alex. Slidell Mackenzie, 293. 

— of Midshipman Philip Spencer, the mutineer, 395. 

— of Rev. William Miller, the prophet, 313. 

— of President John Tyler, .316. 

— of Hon. Thos.W. Gilmer, secretary of the navy, 318. 

— of Hon. A. P. LTpshur, secretary of state, 320. 

— of Commodore R. F. Stockton, 322. 

— of Dr. T. C. Jackson, 326. 

— of Dr. Horace W^ells, 326. 

— of Dr. William T. C. Morton, ,326. 

— of EHas Howe, inventor of the sewing machine, 334. 

— of Catherine Fox. the medium, 342. 

— of Margaretta Fox, the medium, 342. 



Portrait of D. D. Home, the spiritualist, 34S, 

— of Cora L. V, Hatch, the spiritualist, 345. 

— of Andrew Jackson Davis, the spiritualist, 345. 

— of Judge Edmonds, the spiritualist, 345. 

— of President James K. I'olk, 348. 

— of President Zachary Taylor, 349. 

— of Gen. Santa Anna, 350. 

— of Gen. Winfield Scott, 351. 

— of Lieut. W. F. Lynch, the Dead Sea expi jr4r,356. 

— of John A. Sutter, the pioneer of Californiu, 303. 

— of James W. Marshall, the gold discoverer, 365. 

— of Dr. Parkman, murdered by Prof. Webster. 378. 

— of Prof. Webster, murderer of Dr. Parkman, 380. 

— of Jenny Lind, 388. 

— of P. T. Barnum. 3V0. 

— of Geo. Steers, designer of the yacht America. 405. 

— of Louis Kossuth, the Hungarian exile, 413. 

— of Theodore Sedgwick, 423. 

— of Senator A. P. Butler of South Carolina, 439. 

— of Senator Charles Sumner, 441. 

— of Preston S. Brooks of South Carolina. 444. 

— group, of <^reat revival preachers, Jacob KnapD. 
C. C. Finney, P. Cartwright, J. N. Maffitt, E. N. Kirtc 

E. P. Hammond, A. B. Earle, J. D. Potter, 46u. 
of Dwight L. Moody and Ira D. Sankey, 4tJ4. 

— of Senator Stephen A. Douglas, 474. 

— of Albert Edward, Prince of Wales, 4f5. 

— of Major Robert Anderson, 503. 

— of Gen, G. T. Beauregard, 505. 

— of Jolin S. Rarey, the horse tamer, 511. 

— of Gen. Irwin McDowell, 519. 

— of Gen. J. Johnston, 52i. 

— of Com. Frank Buchanan, 528. 

— of Lieut. John L. Worden, 533. 

— of Gen. Geo. B. McClellan, 537. 

— of Gen. A. E. Burnside, 538. 

— of Gen. Stonewall Jackson, 540, 

— of Gen. Joe Hooker, 541. 

— of Hon. Wm. H. Seward, 545. 

— of Hon. Edwin M. Stanton, 5i6. 

— of President Abraham Lincoln, 547. 

— of Gen. J. C. Pemberton, 556. 

— of Gen. J. B. McPheraon, 559. 

— of Gen. G. G. Meade, 505. 

— of Gen. James Longstreet, 569. 

— of Capt. Raphael Semmes, 583. 

— of Capt. John A. Winslow, 585. 

— group, of Admirals Farragut, Porter, Duponi ana 
Foote, 591. 

— of Gen. W, T. Sherman. 600. 

— of John Wilkes Booth, the assmssln of Ltnooln« 622- 

— of Sergeant Boston Corbett, 024. 

— of Cyrus W^ Field, 631. 

— of Archbishop McCloskey, 676, 

— of Thomas A. Edison, 684. 

— of Emperor William of Germany, 707. 
Potter, John D., the revivalist account of. 460. 
Poverty of Fulton before his success. 154. 

— of Howe, at the time of his .nvention, 334. 
Prayer at the death-bed of Lincoln, 622. 

— prevalence of, during the religious revival, 1857, 457. 
Preachers, eminent revival, of the century, 460. 
Preaching, peculiarities of the prophet Miller's, 312. 
Preparations for the "last day" by tbeMilleritee, 311. 
Presidential Mansion in 1789 and in 1876, 88. 
President, election of the first, in the JJ. S., 84. 

— unanimous choice of George Washington as, 85. 

— Washington's address in accepting the office of, ^!i 

— Washington's inauguration as, in New York, 88. 

— Monroe's parting with Lafayette. 195. 

— Jackson's narrow escape from assassination, 236. 

— Tyler's narrow escape from death. 317. 

— Fillmore's private reception of Jenny Lind, 398 



736 



INDEX. 



prbsidest Fillmore's reception of Kossuth, 418. 

— Buchanan's reception of the Japanese embassy, 488. 

— Buchanan's reception of the Prince of Wales, 406. 

— Lincoln, assassination of, by J. Wilkes Booth, 620. 

— Grant with Emperor of Brazil at centennial, 6S2. 
PiacE of .Arnold's treason, 48. 

PitiNcE OF \V.\LES, the visit of the, to America, 493. 

— letter of President Buchanan inviting the, 493. 

— letter of Queen Victoria concerning, 4'.>4. 

— his reception on the .American boundary line, 4D4. 

— his receptions in Chicago, St. Louis and Cin., 494, 495. 

— his visit to the tomb of Washington, 496. 

— his visits to Richmond, Baltimore and Phila., 496. 

— the unexpected international embrace of the, 497. 

— the grand balls in honor of the, 498, 499. 

— the ndlitary reception at West Point of the, 498. 

— at Albany, Springfield and Boston, 499. 

— his appreciation of the .\merican ladies, 500. 
PitiycESOF .Jaimn, visit of the, to the V. S., 485. 
Princeton, the terrible accident on board the, 315. 
Pkoclamation of Emancipation, the, 544. 

the most imoortant words in, 547. 

I/incoius esiimaie of the importance of, 548. 

Prophecies, scriptural, interpreted by Miller, 307. 

Q- 

QlTEEN, interview of John Adams with the British, 75. 

— Victoria, visit of, to the yacht America, 411. 
letter of, to President Buchanan, 494. 

the applause of, at Uarey's exhibition of horse 

taming, 513. 

the contribution of, to centennial exhibition, 696. 

Quarrel of Aaron Burrwiih Alexander Hamilton, 130. 
Quelling of the great whiskey insurrection of 1794 by 

United States troops, 110. 
Question of Supre.macv, between the Indians and 
the whites. Gen. Jackson's settlement of the, 97. 

R- 
Kace, the great international yacht, description of, 403. 
Eailroad to the Pacific, construction of the, 637. 
Railway, amount of, built in the half century, 645. 

— history of the progress of the, in the V. S., f>46. 

— the first locomotive on an American, 648. 

— the European. 650. 

— the MetroDolitan elevated, 652. 

Rain, the gauge of, during the great gale of 1815, 185. 
Randolph, John, his duel with Henry Clay, 19fi. 
Rarey. John S., the great horse-tamer, account of, 509. 

— liis feats in America and Europe, 510. 

— Victoria's applause, at the exhibition of, 513. 

— his method of taming, 515. 
Ratification of the constitution by the states, 83. 

— of the fifteenth constitutional amendment, 552. 
Ravages of the cholera and yellow fever in V. S., 368. 
Reading the original deblaration of independence to 

the army in 1776, 27. 

— the original declaration of independence in Phila- 
delphia in 1876, 699. 

Rebellion, the great Southern, the opening act of. 501. 

— the closing scene of, 612. 

— the first and last battle of, fought on the same 
man's land, 613. 

Reception of Lafayette by President Monroe, 191. 

— of .Jenny Lind by President Fillmore, 393. 

— of Kossuth by the United States, 412. 

— pjand military, of Kossuth in New York, 417. 

— of the Japanese embassy by Pres. Buchanan. 487. 

— of the Prince of Wales by Pres. Buchanan, 496. 
Rkd Jacket, interview of. with Lafayette, 194. 
Reflection of the great comet in the ocean, 303. 



Reformation, the great temperance, of 1840, 276. 

— its origin, apostles, and disciples, 277. 
REG.iTT.4, the great international yacht, at Cowes, 403. 
Reign of the vigilance committee in California, 395. 
Religiocs Keviv.al, the great, of 1857, 456. 

its striking moral results, 464. 

Remaukakle coincidence of the civil war, 613. 

— exception of a single house from the great confia 
gration of Chicago, 653. 

Reno, Gen., death of, at Antietam, 541. 

Reply of John Paul Jones to British commander, 34. 

— of George 111. to John .Adams, 74. 

— of Gen. McClellan to Gen. Burnside's request f < » 
reinforcements at Antietam, .MO. 

Reporter, Geo. W. Smalley, the, at Antietam, 542. 
Repossession of Fort Sumter by U. S. governm't, 61.". 
Republic, the birth of the new, in 1776, 25. 

— centennial celebration in 1876 of the, 689. 
Resaca de la Palma, Gen. Taylor's victory at, 348. 
Residence of Lafayette. 191. 

— of President Lincoln .at Springfield, 111., 623. 
Resignation of command by Washington, 66. 

— and re-election to congress of Preston S. Brooks, 444 
Resolution of independence, Richard Henry Lee's, 2( 

— of censure of Jackson, expunging of the, 252. 
Restoration of the U. S. flag to Fort Sumter, 614. 
Revival, the great religious, of 1857, 456. 
Revivalists, the great, 464. 

Reynolds, Gen., at Gettysburg, 564. 
Richardson. Gen., at Bull Run, 518. 
Richmond, the fall of, 607. 
Right of Petition, the struggle for the, 252. 

the eleven days' debate upon the, 261. 

Ringing of the Bell, .July 4. 1776, 25. 
Rise and progress of the Mormons, 214. 
Riot, the great whiskey, in Pennsylvania, 105. 
" Rochester Knockings," account of the, 340. 
Rock Oil, early knowledge of, by the Indians, 476. 

— the great excitement of 1859 upon discovery of, 478. 
Rocky' Mountains, Fremont's expedition to the, 285. 

— the national flag planted on highest peak of the, 287. 

— animal life at the summit of the, 287. 
Run on a bank during the panic of 1857, 447. 



Salt Lake City', description of, 221. 

San Francisco, the crimes of the "hounds" in. 395 

— the reign of the vigilance committee in, 396. 
Sanitary* Fair, Lincoln's contribution to the, 552. 
Sankev, Ira D., revivalist, beneficent services of, 464. 
Santa Anna, victory of Gen. Taylor over, 349. 
Savannah, Ga., Gen. Sherman's capture of, 605. 
Scheme to deliver West Point to the British, 49. 

— to make Washington king, 66. 

— of .Aaron Burr to found an American empire, 143. 
Scene at the death-bed of Washington. 122. 

— of the Burr and Hamilton duel at YVeehawken, .31. 

— of Fultoii's first trial of his steamboat, 153. 

— of the great earthquake in the West, 1.58. 

— at the earthquake in San Francisco, 161. 

— at the battle of Lake Erie, 167. 

— at the battle of New Orleans, 176. 

— during the great flood of 1815, 179. 

— during the great September gale, 180, 

— during the great whirlwind, 1S3. 

— at landing of Lafayette at the Battery, N. Y., 186. 

— in the great debate of Webster and Hayne, 212. 

— in congress during the speech of John Quince 
Adams on the right of petition, 258. 

— in Fremont's tour to the Rocky mountainB, 289. 

— at the loss of the .Arctic, 4.33. 

— at the combat of the Merrimac and Monitor. 531. 



INDEX. 



757 



Scene at signing of the emancipation proclamation. .'549. 

— at Ford's tlieater at tlie assassination of Lincoln, t'.'jn. 

— at the completion of the Pacitic Hailroad. fi41. 
Schools, system of, in the U. S., progress of the. G(57. 
ScHiTRz, Carl, centennial oration at St. Louis by, 702. 
SciENcF, the four miracles of. (i.sn. 

Scott, Gen., in the halls of the Montezumas, 346. 

— at the head of the loyal army in the civil war, .508. 
Scourge of the cholera and yellow fever, 368. 

Se.\, the Dead, Lynch's expedition to, 354. 

Sk.\t of goverment, contest as to the location of the, 113. 

establishment of the, in New York in 1789, 88, 

transferring of the, to Washington in 1800, 110. 

Secession, the first gun of, 501. 

— the last battle of. 612. 

Sectional Contest on location of the capital, 113. 
Seconk Advent excitement of 1843. the, 307. 

symbolical illustration of prophecies as to the, 309. 

Sedgwick, Gen., at Gettysburg, 564. 
Sem.mes, Capt. Raphael, career of, with Alabama, 581. 
September Gale of 1815, the memorable, 178. 
Serapis, capture of the, by John Paul Jones, 36. 
Sew.\rd, William H., murderous aesault upon, 627. 
SEWING Machine, invention of, by Howe, 322. 

the old and the new, 336. 

Sherman, Gen. W. T., grand march to the sea of, 698. 

— the army of, in the march, 602. 

— his Christmas gift to President Lincoln, 605. 
Shooting St.\rs, wonderful display in 1833 of, 228. 
Siege of Vicksiu'RG by Gen. Grant, 557. 
Sierra Nevada, Fremont's exploration of the. 286. 
Signing of the declaration of independence, 31. 

— of the constitution by the delegates. 82. 

— the pledge in the great reformation of 1840, 279, 

— of the emancipation proclamation, 649. 
SlLLIMAN, Prof., his theory as to petroleum. 483. 
Sinking of the Cumberland with tiag flying, .528. 
Slavery, petition to congress, by slaves, for the per- 
petuation of, 255. 

Slaves, the emancipation of the, by President Lin- 
coln's proclamation, 544. 

— the jubilation of the emancipated, .551. 
Smallev, Geo. W., war correspondent of the Tribune, 

gallantry of, at Antietam, 643. 
Smith, Joseph, the Mormon leader, history of, 215. 
Solar Eclipse, the great total, midday. 134. 
Soldiers' Monument at Gettysburg, .571. 
SOMERS, U. S. brig, mutiny on board the, 290. 
Sovereigns of Industry, objects of the, V>G6. 
Sovereignty, popular, great debate upon, between 

Lincoln and Douglas, 469. 
Spangler, trial of, for conspiracy 627. 
Speech, farewell, of Gen. Washington, to his .army, 63. 

— of Washington, in resigning his commission, 68. 

— of John Adains, to George III.. 74. 

— of George III. to .John .idams, 74. 

— of Franklin, on the federal constitution, 81. 
of Daniel Webstej, in reply to Hayne, 209. 

— of John Q. Adams, on the right of petition, 254. 

— of Gen. Grant, at the centennial exhibition. 690. 
_ of the !\Iikadoof Japan to President Buchanan,488. 

— of Pres. Buchanan to the Japanese embassy, 488. 
Spiritu.\l Knockings, and table tippings. :M0. 
Spiritu.\lism, the rise and progress of. 'vll 

— theoriesof Ag.assiz.Faraday and Herschel,as to,343. 

— the variety of phenomena of, 344. 

— the adherents and literature of. 345. 

— Judge Edmond's classification of mediunjs of, .■545. 
Squadron Combat, America and England matched 

in, 163. 
State Street, Boston, during hard times of 1857, 461. 
State Avenue at the Philadelphia exposition, 702. 
St. Clair, jefeat of, by " Little Turtle," 95. 



St. Louis, visit of Prince Albert to, 494. 
St. Patrick's Cathedral, N. Y., dedication of, 680. 
Stanton. Secretary, at the death bed of Lincoln, 021. 
St.\rs, the great shower of, in 1833, 228. 
" Stars and Stripes "on the summit of the Kocky 
Mountains, 287. 

on the halls of the Montezumas, 353. 

Steam, first application of, for navigation, 150. 
Steamboat, the first on the Hudson, 152. 

— the first on the Ohio. 155. 

Steamer Arctic, loss of, by collision at sea, 428. 
Steers, Geo., the designer of the yacht America, 405. 
Stockton, Commodore, the explosion of the monster 

gun of, 315. 
Storming of Chapultepec, 347. 

Storrs, K. S., centennial oration in New York by, 702. 
Struggle, for the right of petition in congress, 252, 
Subli.me Meteoric Shower of 1833, 228. 

at Boston, 228. 

at Niagara Falls 230. 

on the Mississippi, 233. 

Successful laying of the telegraphic cable across the 

Atlantic ocean. 630. 
Sudden appearance of a great comet in the skies at 

noonday, .'KIO. 
Suicide of John C. Colt, the murderer of Adams, in 

prison, 3S5. 
Summit of the Rocky Mountains, Fremont upon, 287. 

Su.mner, Charles, assault of I'reston S. Brooks upon, 
in the United States senate, 4.'I7. 

Sumter. Fort, bombardment of, 501. 

— gallant defense of, by Gen. Anderson, 603. 

— the fall of, 608. 

— the re-possession of, by the Vnited States, 615. 
Surratt. John H., trial and escape from conviction 

of. for conspiracy, 628. 

— Mrs., execution by hanging of, for conspiracy. 628. 
Surrender, of the first British to an American man- 
of-war, 32. 

— of Lord Cornwallis to Gen. W.a*hington, 55. 

— of Gen. Lee to Gen. Grant, 612. 

Sutter's Mills, Cal., the discovery of gold at, 362. 
Sword of Washington, 63. 

— of Lafayette, 190. 

Symbolic Statue of America, 117. 

Symbolical Illustrations of the Second Advent 

prophecies, 309. 
Symbols of Co-operative Labor Organizations, 662. 



Table Tippings, and spirit knockings, accounts of, 340. 
Taking the Oath, Washington, at inauguration, 89. 
Taming of wild horses, Barey's method of, 517. 
Tarring and feathering, in the Pennsylvania whiskey 

insurreclion. 106. 
Tay'Lor, Bayard, the ode at the centennial by, 690. 

General Zachary, his victories in Mexico, 348. 

Te.achings of the Mormon Bible, 216, 
Tecumseh, General Harrison's victory over. 170. 
Telegram, the first, 249. 
Telegraph, the electric, Morse's invention of, 244. 

description of, 245. 

the debate upon, and trial of, in congress, 247. 

Miss Ellsworth's message, the first, over, 249. 

Telegraphic Cable, the Atlantic, laying the, 629. 

— the first message through, 034. 

— the messages through, between Queen Victoria and 
the President, 634. 

Telegraphic Instrument, the original, 248. 
Telephone, invention of the, by Professor Bell, 68i. 

— description of the. 6.84. 

Temperance. Gen. W.ashington's testimony as to. 280. 



738 



INDEX. 



Temperance reforjiation, the great, of 1840, 276. 

— its origiu and originators, 277. 

— the results achieved by, 280. 

— Father Mathew's apostleship for, in 1849, 281. 
.'KMPLE, the Mormon, 221. 

Tennessee, Buchanan's monster ram, 59i5. 
Termination of the ivar of 1812 with England, 176. 

— of the great civil war, B12. 

Terms of Surrender, of Cornwallis, at Yorktowu, 58. 

at Vicksburg, unconditional, 039. 

accorded to General Lee, by Central Grant, C12. 

Terrible crisis, of 1857, in the financial world, 447. 

— disaster, at sea, 42!t. 

— earthquake, of 1811, 15i;. 

— explosion, on the Prijieeton, 315. 

— fire at Chicago, 853. 

— gale, of 1815, 179. 

— scourge, of the Asiatic cholera, 368. 

Terror of the Indians, upon the appearance of the 
great comet, 301. 

— of the people of the West, during the great earth- 
quake, 15*. 

— reign of. during the whiskey insurrection, 107. 
Terry General at Fort Fisher, 507. 

Theater Ford's, scene in, at the assassination of Pres- 
ident Lincoln, 620. 
The First consecration of an American cardinal, 676. 

election of president of the United States, 85. 

execution in California, .396. 

minister plenipotentiary to England, 71. 

_ _ naval victory of the United .States, 32. 

occupation of a foreign capital by U. S. army, 353. 

oriental embassy, 485. 

squadron combat of the U. S. navy, 163. 

steamboat in American waters, 150. 

steam railway, 646. 

telegraphic message over an established line, 249. 

telegraphic message through Atlantic cable, 631. 

'i H K Great cathedral, St. Patrick's, in New York, 675. 

comet of 1843, .300. 

debate of Webster and Hayne, 205. 

exhibition of 1853, in New York, 421. 

exposition of 1876. at Philadelphia, 689. 

financial crisis, of WfiJ, 447. 

gold fever, of 1848, 360. 

petroleum excitement, of 1859, 476. 

religious awakening, of 18.57, 476. 

temperance reformation, of 1840, 276. 

tragedy of the century, 617. 

uprising of the North, of 1861, 501. 

yacht race, the victory of the U. S. in, 403. 

The Greatest New Year's present of the century, 547. 
The " Little Monitor," at Hampton roads, 526. 
The N.4-TI0NAL Granoe movement, history of, 660. 
Theodosia, Aaron Burr's daughter, devotion of, 148. 

— her mysterious fate, 149. 

Theories, of Professors Dana and Sillinian as to the 
orif^in and source of petroleum, 483. 

— ot Agassiz, Faraday and Herschel as to spiritual- 
ism, 343. 

Three Days' Battle at Gettysburg, ,563. 

Tickets, to .jenny Lind's first concerts, sale of, 390, 391. 

Tides, remarkable effect of the great gale of 1815, 

upon the, 180. 
TipPEC.iNOE, Gen. WillLam Henry Harrison's victory 

at. 97. 
Tomb of Lafayette,195. 

— of Washington, at Mount Vernon. 125. 
Lafayette's visit to the. 104. 

visit of the Prince of Wales to the, 406. 

" Tommy " .Tapanese, the petting of, by the ladies of the 

United States. 491. 
Total Solar Eclipse at midday, of 1806, 134. 



Tour, the United States, of the Prince of Wales, 493. 

— musical, of Jenny Liud, in the L'nited States, 386. 

— of Kossuth, in the United .States, 412. 

— of Lafayette in the United States, 186. 
Tr.iveling on the first steam railway, 646. 

— by the first steamboat, 152. 

Tre.\son, of Major-general Benedict Arnold, 48. 

— of Aaron Burr, 140. 
Treating with the Indians, 91. 

Tre.\ty of peace and commerce with Japan, 485. 
Trial of Aaron Burr, for conspiracy, 148. 

— of Prof. Webster, for murder of Dr. Parkmau, 380. 

— of John H. Surratt, Mrs. Surratt, Atzerodt, Harold 
and Payne, for conspiracy. 028. 

Triu.'UPH.vl .Journey of Washington to New York to 
be inaugurated President, So. 

Tunisian Tent at the centennial, 704, 

Two Hundred Y'ears of education, 667. 

Tycoon of Japan, letter ot ihe, to President Bu- 
chanan, 489. 

u. 

Unani.mous Election of General Washington to the 

Presidency, 85. 
" Unconditional Surrender," how Gen. U. S. Grant 

won the title, 559. 
Unconirollable Panic at Bull Run, 521. 
Une.xpected Embrace of the Prince of Wales, 497. 
Unfurli.ng of the United States Flag, Fremont, 

on the summit of the Kocky Mountains, 287. 

Gen. Scott, from the halls of the Montezuma.?, 353. 

Union, Daniel Webster's apostrophe to the, 211. 

— petition in congress for the dissolution of the, by 
Massachusetts citizens, 257. 

Union Square, N. Y., centennial display in. 697. 
United State.s, John Adams, at the British Court as 

first ambassador of the, 74. 
Unparalleled gale, the, ot 1815, 178. 

— con flagration of the century, the, 653. 
Unprecedented Spectacle in a legislative body, 437. • 
Unusual Appearance of the water during the myste- 
rious dark day of 1780, 42. 

Use of rock oil by the early Indian tribes, 476. 
Uses of petroleum, the various, 484. 
Utah, migrations of the Mormons to, 220. 

V. 

Vapor-s, peculiar, during the dark day of 1780, 42. 
Various etfects of the inhalation of ether, 329. 

— uses of rock oil by the early tribes of Indians, 476. 

— uses of petroleum. 484. 

Velocity ot the falling meteors in the great shower 
of stars of 1833, 232. 

Vera Ckuz, Gen. Scott's victory at, 348. 

Vessel, burning of a merchant, by the Alabama, 581. 

Vessels, in the streets of Providence, during the 
great gaJe of 1815, 179. 

Vesta, the collision of the, with the Arctic, at noon- 
day, in mid-ocean, 428. 

Vicksburg, the campaign against. 551. 

— Gen. Grant's famous terms of surrender to the 
garrison of, 559. 

Victor Emanuel, the centennial message of, 705. 
Victoria, her visit to the yacht America, 411. 

— her letter to President Buchanan, 444. 

— her thanks to the people of the U. S. for courtesies 
to Prince Albert, 500. 

— her applause at Earey's horse taming exhibition lu 
London, 513. 

Victorious Race of the yacht .America, in the great in- 
ternational regatta, 403. 
Victory, first United States naval, 32. 






I C I. 



INDEX. 



739 



Victory of Commodore John Paul Jones, over the Se- 
rapis, o5. 

— the crowning, at Yorktown, 57, 

— and defeat in the Indian wars, 93. 

— on lake aud hind by Perry aud Harrison, 167. 

— of Gen. Jackson, at New Orleans, 176. 

— of Gens. Taylor and Scott, in Mexico, 350. 

— of the Confederates at Bull Kun, 523. 

— of Grant at Vicksburg, 557. 

— of Gen. Meade at Gettysburg, 567. 

— of the Kearsarge over the Alabama, 687. 

— of Farragut at New Orleans, 589. 

— — in Mobile Bay, 694. 

— of Porter at Fort Fisher, 597. 

— of Sherman at Savannah, 605. 

— of Grant at Richmond, 607. 

Vigilance Committee, reign of the, in California, 305. 
Visit of Father Mathew to the United States in the 
sause of temperance, 281. 

' to the United States, of the Prince of "Wales, 493. 
— -of Dom Pedro, Emperor of Brazil, 690, 

of Lafayette, in 1824, 186. 

of Kossuth, the Hungarian exile, 412. 

of the Japanese Princes, 4S6. 

Visits of Moody and Sankey to the "rious cities, 467. 
Voting for President, the first, 85. 
Vow, of President Lincoln, as to proclaiming freedom 
to the slaves, if Lee should be driven from Pa., 548. 

NA/. 

Wager, the great, on the yacht America, 404. 
Wagner's centennial inauguration march, 690, 
Wales, Prince of, his tour in the United States, 493. 
Wall Street, N, Y., scenes in, during the great panic 

of 1857, 449. 
Ward, J. Q. A., his monument to the discovery of ether 

as an anesthetic, 330. 
Warfare, ocean, the effect upon the method of, by 

the introduction of the irou-clads, 534. 
Warning of Washington to St. Clair, 95. 
Washington, Gen., appointment of, to the command 

of the continental army, 64. 

— receiving his commission from congress, 65. 

— taking conmiand of the army at Cambridge, Go. 

— record of his generalship, 65. 

— his indignant refusal of American kingship, 66. 

— his farewell address to his army, 67. 

— his return of his commission to congress, 68. 

— his unanimous election as president, 85. 

— the last wonls of the mother of, to, 85. 

— the ovations to, on his journey to inauguration, 86. 

— ceremonies of the inauguration of, in N. Y., 89. 

— his prophecy upon signing the constitution, 82. 

— his wrath, at the defeat of St. Clair, 95. 

— his suppression of the whiskey insurrection, 107. 

— his influence in locating the national capital, 114. 

— laying of the corner stone of the capitol by, 116. 

— his death bed and last words, 122. 

— the funeral obsequies of, 123. 

— the eulogies of, by the crowned heads and great 
generals of Europe. 125. 

— the tomb of, visit of Lafayette to, 194. 

the visit of the heir to the British throne to. 496. 

— the city of, sectional contest over the establishing 
the seat of government at, \1^. 

transferring of the archives to, 116. 

Washingtonian Temperance Society, origin of 
the name of the, 278. 

Waters of the Dead Sea. Lynch's examination of. 359. 

Wayne, Mad Anthony, defeat of the Indians by, 93, 

Webster, Daniel, his oration at the laying of the cor- 
ner stone of the capitol extension, lis. 



Webster, Daniel, his great debate with Hayne, 206. 

— effect of the speech of, against Hayne, 210. 

— his eulogy of Massachusetts, 209. 

— his apostrophe to the Union, 211. 

— his impromptu duet with Jenny Lind, 393. 

— his encomium of Kossuth, 418. 

— Prof., the murder of Dr. Parkman by, 376. 
singular detection of, 378. 

hardihood on trial of, 381. 

firm denial and subsequent confession of, 382. 

Welcome to Lafayette by the people of the U. S., 190 

— to Kossuth by the citizens of New York, 417. 

— to the Prince of Wales by the American people, 498. 
Wells, Dr. W., his claim to the discovery of ether as 

an anaesthetic, 326, 
West Point, plot of Beoiedict Arnold to deliver, to 
the British. 48. 

appearance of, in 1780, 52. 

the grand military reception of the Prince of 

Wales at, 498. 
Whirlwind, the great, of 1815, 178. 
Whiskey Insurrection, the great Penn., 105. 

causes of, 106. 

repression of, by the United States army. 111. 

— Lincoln's proscription of, to the generals, 562. 
Whitney, Eli, the early history of, 98. 

— how a bright woman helped him, 99. 

— the invention of the cotton gin by, 100. 

— the discouragements and final success of, 103. 
Whittier, John G.. centennial poem written by, 690. 
Wilcox, Gen., at Bull Kun, 517. 

William, Emperor of Germany, his congratulatory 
centennial letter to Pres. Grant, 745. 

WiNSLow, Capt., in command of the Kearsarge, sink- 
ing the Alabama, 586. 

Winthrop, Robert C, the centennial oration at Bos- 
ton by, 700. 

Woman's Pavilion at the centennial exposition, 703. 

Wonderful dark day of 1780, account of the, 39. 

— gateway in the Rocky mountains, 286. 

— meteoric sbower of 1833, 228, 

Word, the most important, in the proclamation of 

emancipation, 547. 
Words, last, of Gen. Washington, 119. 

— last written, of President Lincoln, 619. 

World, the Millerites waiting the expected destruc- 
tion of the, 307. 

World's Fair, the great of 1853, in New York, 421. 

WoRDEN, Lieut. John S., exploits of, with the " Little 
Monitor," .r)32. 

Wrath of Washington at the defeat of St. Clair, 95. 

Y. 

Yacht America, triumph of the, at the greatintemS' 
tional race. 403. 

Queen Victoria's inspection of the, 411. 

Yale College in 1784, 668. 

grounds around, 672. 

growth of, 673. 

Year, the centennial, celebrations of, 689. 
Yellow Fever, its visitations upon the U. S., 368. 

the ravages of, 369. 

Yorktown, surrender of Cornwallls at, 55. 

— junction of the American and French forces at, 56. 

— letter of King George as to the defeat at, 60. 
Young, Brigham, the Mormon leader, history of, 220. 
Young Meigs, voluntary generalship at Bull Run, 524. 



Zeal of Lafayette for the American cause. 55, 186. 
Zouaves, the New York, their dash and daring at Bull 
Run. 022. 






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